


The Dutchman

by Fantazima



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action & Romance, Demons, Eventual Smut, F/M, Monsters, Mystery, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Redemption, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:22:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 44,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27962228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantazima/pseuds/Fantazima
Summary: In the aftermath of Thanos, the world needed a moment to regroup itself. And in that moment, Bucky Barnes found he did not take kindly to free time. After things have settled back on track and with the help of Sam Wilson, who refuses to admit he is struggling to define his own identity, he sets out to balance the scales in a world where he has contributed so many terrible things.Miranda Eavers is a highly trained SHIELD specialist who has been assigned to assist the duo in their ventures. While her work as one of the most effective SHIELD snipers is well known throughout the agency, she has remained an elusive cog in their machine for years. And she likes it that way. But when odd things start occurring, and dead bodies start showing up, she fears something deadly from her past might be surfacing.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 67





	1. Plan C

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, first story on here. Let's see how this goes.

“Eavers! We are gonna need plan C!”

“Already?” Miranda threw her body against the storm door and wrenched it open, each breath burning like fire in her lungs. “What happened to Grand Plan A and B?”

She bolted onto the rooftop, the suffocating heat of the summer sun radiating up from the concrete. “God, can’t anyone cause mayhem when it’s 70 and wonderful?”

“We, uh,” Sam Wilson was cut off by the sound of wood splintering apart, “may have underestimated the target a little bit.”

The zipper of the rifle bag was loud on the quiet rooftop. “‘Piece of cake’ he said. ‘The Winter Soldier could take care of this with one hand behind his back’ he said.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam rumbled into the radios.

“I am handling it,” Bucky Barnes snarled over the line, sounding a bit breathless.

“Bro, he just wiped the ground with your face. We’re idiots. Admit it. Place C, Eavers. We need it now.”

“Hey!” Miranda snapped, settling onto her stomach, gun in position. “This would have gone much faster if you had dropped me on the right rooftop, birdman.”

“What?” Bucky snapped, “Where are you?”

“About two and a half miles south of you, which is about three blocks closer than where I got dumped.”

“Two and a half miles? Are you craz—” 

“Get him into position, Barnes. I’ll worry about the rest.” 

She settled her sight on the building they were set to be in. She followed the windows down, down until she came to the ground floor. The wall looked as though it had burst apart from the inside, the cinder blocks scorched and crumbling. Movement blurred in the warped edges of the lens. Miranda shifted just ever so slightly, bringing the action into view. 

Two figures grappled violently. Light glinted off the exposed metal arm of the smaller figure. The Winter Soldier. A laugh bubbled in her chest. Yes. They may have just slightly underestimated the target. The tip that had been called in was in regards to a young girl, standing alone on the sidewalk, behaving strangely. The only hint of a girl was a bright pink scrunchy holding back dark strands from the figure’s brutish face.

Miranda took in a long slow breath, settling her body. Her finger settled on the trigger, the pressure gentle, ready. Barnes locked grips with the target. His muscles trembled with exertion as he pushed the girl-thing-monster back one step, then another.  
“You aren’t guaranteeing me a clear shot, Sargeant.” 

“Take what you can get,” Sam responded. “We are out of options here.”

Miranda drew in a long breath, holding it. The noise of the street below fell away. Each honking car, yelling pedestrian, and bark dog dissipated until it was nothing but the slowing of her own heart beat. She pictured the bullet in the chamber, waiting and ready. The target at the other end of her sight, angry and ignorant. 

Then she pulled the trigger.

It always happened the same way. 

A chain reaction of events as familiar as breathing. 

First came the sound. The suppressor quieted a great deal of the noise, but it still consumed the air around her, shuttering the pebbles on the rooftop beside her. Then the gun kicked back against her in a familiar pressure. The tink of the shell exiting the chambler and striking the ground. Through the barrel of the sight, she could see the target crumple backwards. Barnes dropped, his body hitting the ground. He was swearing profanities into the communicators. His words shaky and raw. Behind his voice she could hear Sam whooping.

Letting out the breath she had been holding, Miranda sat back. She twisted the ball cap that had been turned back to allow for the sight so that the bill shaded her eyes from the unrelenting sun. Her fingers shook slightly as she lifted the rifle, adrenaline crashing through her like a bull in a china shop. The white hot brightness of the midday sun made her right arm and fingers a stark black and white painting of dark inked lines and pale skin.

Miranda pulled the communicator from her ear, looking for a moment of solitude before climbing back down the vacant stairs of the parking garage to join the rest of her team. She could vaguely make out Sam’s voice as she settled the device in her palm. 

“You did good, Eavers. You did damn good.”

She rolled her head back, cradling the gun to her chest, enjoying the sun on her face and the warmth of the weapon in her arms. Then she moved her feet, boots crunching rock as she stood to strap the gun in its case. As she settled it across her back, the strap pressing a familiar weight across her chest and shoulder, she slipped the communicator back into place.

“Wilson. Can I expect an extraction here or do I have to take the stairs? Again.”

“You’re on your own, sister. You got two perfectly good legs. We’ve got a mess to pick up here.”

Miranda couldn’t help but smile as she pushed open the rooftop door, pausing a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the stairwell. “One of these days, Wilson, I’m gonna get that ‘jump from the rooftop’ extraction I’ve always wanted.”  
“Trust me, girl. It ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

Miranda laughed lightly as she descended one floor, then another and another. The muscles in her legs ached dully. Too many stairs. Wilson’s mistake would not be let go easily.

A scream erupted, echoing in the enclosed spiral of stairs. Miranda froze, foot poised in the air. Every hair on her neck rose in unison. Every alarm in her body came to life at once. Miranda twisted, leaning out over the railing to look up through the center of the spiral of stairs, then down at the shadows below. No movement. 

Just as quickly as the scream arose, it was cut savagely short. The stairwell fell into a silence so deafening, Miranda couldn’t believe the pounding of her own heart wasn’t echoing off the walls. Breath ragged, her legs screamed as she descended the stairs two at a time. Three floors down she came to an open door. She paused on the landing above it, listening. She could hear something beyond it. The noise was hard to identify. The sound of it didn’t feel right against her ears. Something that didn’t feel entirely...human.

Every fiber in her being sung as she popped the strap over the pistol secured to her thigh. She approached the propped open door, gun raised. Stopping beside the opening, she paused. Listening again. Silence. Her chest felt tight, like a string had been pulled taught around her lungs and tugged at her, beckoning her out onto the parking garage floor. One breath. Then another.

Something scratched against her eardrums. Something hard to make out. They were words she couldn’t understand, but yet somehow a warm finger of familiarity slipped down her spine. Between one thudding heartbeat and the next she swung out through the threshold. The fingers of her right hand began to tingle as she clutched hard on the handle of the gun.

The floor was empty aside from a few lone parked cars. Sunlight angled through the sides, cutting into the shadows. There was nothing particularly unusual about the parking garage, it just felt off. The wrongness of it grated against her nerves, drawing every muscle in her body bowstring tight.

From the corner of her eye she caught a feather of movement. She turned. The harsh noon shadows were black as ink behind the pillars. They welled around the base then pooled towards her. Miranda took in a shaky breath, stepping back. Her mind revolted against what she was seeing, screaming at her to move. To run. To do something. 

She blinked, hard, wiping a hand over her face. Sweat stung her eyes.

And then it was nothing more than the mirror of the pillar, straight and still across the concrete. It had never been anything but.  
“No. God. Please. Not now.”

A sound like nails across the concrete ground up her spine. Miranda gasped in a breath, bile rising in her throat. A bead of sweat trickled down her back. She took an unsteady step forward. Then another.

A half wall lined the edge of the concrete that surrounded the ramps that rose from one floor to the next. Something hunched and dark rose up over it from around the corner then dropped below it again, out of sight.

She forced her feet to move, boots silent on the surface of the concrete as they carried her to the pillar at the corner of the low wall. Scuffs and scrapes of movements drifted towards her. Something dripped.

Slowly.

Monotonously. 

Miranda pressed into her communicator, “Wilson? Barnes?” 

She was met with static. The sound of it filling her head. Again she tried and was met with nothing but the overwhelming sound of static. She was alone on this. Miranda leaned her head back against the pillar, drew in a long breath, and then swung out from behind it, gun raised, finger on the trigger.

A woman lay motionless on the ground, a great crimson pool of blood gathering around her. A creature was hunched over her. The woman lay in a shaft of sunlight, but it did not seem to touch this creature. Miranda had read about black holes. How the gravity at its core was so strong, that light could not even exist within it. That’s what it was like to stare at this monster. It was not black. It was the absence of light.

It turned toward her, slowly unfurling itself until it stood at its full height. It opened its hands, long slender fingers spreading to reveal tips sharp as knives. She couldn’t make out features, but her mind told her it was ugly. Hideous. Unworldly. It moved toward her like smoke on water and Miranda felt herself take one step back, then another. 

Miranda squeezed the trigger again and again, emptying the clip into his chest. What she assumed was its chest? She could hear the rounds make contact, but the creature did not slow. It was useless. She had known it would be. But that did not stop her from pulling another clip from her belt.

The tingling in her arm intensified until it felt like a million needles pricked at its surface. Like she had slept too long on it, and it revolted at the lack of blood flow. The world around them fell away, consumed by the shadows that rose to swallow the sunlight.  
“He told me to give you a message.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. The voice consumed the chaotic cavity of her mind, scratched against the surface of her skull, echoed around her like it came from everywhere and nowhere at once. But she just knew, deep in her bones, that it was this thing before her.

“He wanted me to tell you…”

An angry, aggravated sound tore from her lips and she squeezed the trigger again, emptying the second clip.

“...he will see you soon.”

Abandoning the gun, Miranda withdrew the long knife from its sheath at her belt. The blade was the length of her forearm, serrated and savage. She charged at the creature, bringing the knife up and dragging it across its chest.   
Like a trail of smoke, it stretched and shifted in the wake of blow until it evaporated entirely. The darkness leached from the world and she felt the warmth of the sunlight on her skin once more. Letting out a breath, Miranda stepped back. It was an awkward step and she stumbled, landing hard on the concrete. The sounds of the city flooded her senses and it was all she could hear. The woman still lay prone and unmoving on the garage floor. The only evidence that everything that had just occurred was not some kind of hallucination. 

“Eavers? You copy” 

Sam’s voice broke the static buzzing in her ears. 

“Eavers?”

Lifting a shaky hand, she depressed the button on her communicator. “I don’t know what the hell just happened. But I think you guys better get over here.”


	2. The Dutchman

When several agents flooded out of the stairwell into the parking garage, Miranda still hadn’t moved. She was sitting back on her hands, rocks biting into the heels of her palms. Nothing about what had just happened made any sense. The dark cotton shirt she wore stuck to her skin with sweat. The empty gun clips lay discarded beside her. 

She watched as two young technicians slowly approached the dead woman.

“Oh she’s dead alright.” Miranda wiped a dirty hand over her face. “She hasn’t taken a single breath since I got here.”

“Eavers? You good?”

Miranda looked back over her shoulder to Sam walking toward her. He reached a hand out and she took it, happy for the anchor. “Man, I don’t know what I am.”

“What the hell happened here?” he asked, his eyes immediately finding the body of the woman. 

“It was like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

The lie comes easy. As it always does.

Something solid shoves hard enough against her shoulder, hot bolts of pain struck through her chest. Gasping, she stumbled.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Bucky snarled. “That shot was too risky. What if you had hit me instead?”

Teeth bared Miranda twisted to face him, her hand cradling her aching shoulder. “It was a non-lethal round. Worst case scenario you’d be waking up an hour from now with an Icer hangover from hell.”

“It was a necessary shot, Buck. You know that,” Sam said gently.

“I said I was handling it,” Bucky flexed his metal hand, the soft wir of the machinery just barely audible.

“I’m just doing my job, Barnes. You guys requested a specialist. That’s what you got.” Miranda bent to pick up the empty magazines at her feet. “If your PTSD is too much-”

“Hey guys!” A small voice called from across the parking garage. The glare Miranda turned on the technician was enough to send the girl back a step. “I-uh-think you guys should take a look at this.”

“This discussion will be continued later,” Bucky growled. His broad shoulder bumped hers as he passed between Sam and Miranda, making no attempt to avoid her.

“No,” she bit out. “It will not.”

As she moved to follow, she could hear Sam sigh behind her. “They don’t pay me enough to deal with these children.”

The technician looked tiny standing beside the Winter Soldier in an unassuming blouse and dark rimmed glasses. Her cheeks were flushed a bright pink. She was using the pen in her hand to point to parts of the woman’s body as she spoke, her words becoming clearer as Miranda came closer.

“—looks like it was a part of some kind of satanic ritual, if you ask me.”

Bucky looked up to meet eyes with Sam, a brow raised. “Seen anything like this before?”

The woman that lay before them was young. Maybe mid thirties. Her dark hair was a corona around her head, arms crossed neatly, eyes open. Someone had taken a knife to her bare arms and legs, carving dark red symbols into what had previously been a perfect canvas. The significant pool of blood that had gathered around the body had been used to ink in an odd sort of pentagram. It had only been half drawn, as if Miranda’s arrival had pulled the creature from its labor.

Miranda swayed slightly at the sight of it. The flash of a camera popped once, twice. She took a step back, trying to gather herself. She looked up to see Bucky watching her, eyes narrowed. Miranda closed the curtains on any evidence of expression on her face. She clenched her fists hard and the pain from the tips of her nails brought her back to herself. Moving to the opposite side of the small gathering, she squatted down, inspecting the shapes cut into the girl’s skin.

“I don’t recognize the symbols,” the technician said, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose when Miranda looked up at her. “But once I get her back to the lab, I plan on digging a bit deeper into that.”

The line of blood that circled behind Miranda was a dark crisp line. Whatever tool that had been used to draw it had been razor sharp. The image of the obsidian creature flashed across the backdrop of her mind. Its elongated body. The length of talons that formed its fingers.

“I don’t know…” A nearby whisper slipped through her thoughts. “I don’t think that’s her.”

“I’m telling you.” A female voice whispered back, the words forceful with intent. “That’s her.”

“Are you sure?” The man responded, still questioning. “With a name like ‘The Dutchman’ I would have thought it would be a man.” Miranda couldn’t hold back a smirk. Men were all the same. “But who else would have been able to make that shot from over two miles away? They say The Dutchman never misses.”

Bucky shifted slightly. Clearly, she was not the only one having picked up on this conversation. Nor the lack of mention of the other sniper currently in company.

“I’m telling you. I did her entrance exam. Her paperwork is in my office. ‘Alias: The Dutchman.’”

“Karmin. Are you just trying to look cool again? Ouch. Hey! What did I say about smacking me like that.”

“I can do it whenever I please. But seriously. Honest to God truth. That’s her. Go ask her yourself if you don’t believe me.”

There was a pause in the conversation, and finally from behind her came the soft crunch of shoes on concrete. She huffed a desperate laugh, silently pleading for him to turn around and head back to where he came from. 

“Excuse me.”

The technician who had still been speaking with Sam and Bucky hushed, her focus turning to the new comer. Setting one knee carefully on the floor to avoid disturbing the scene, Miranda twisted to look up at the young man. He looked to be in his twenties. Maybe a little younger than her.

“Yes?”

He hesitated, clearly having lost momentum aftering coming face to face with her. “Um. My friend and I are having a bit of a disagreement, and I wanted to settle it.”

A long pause stretched out between them and she made no attempt to fill it.

“Are you, uh.” He reached up to rub the back of his neck, doubt clear as day on his face. The girl, Karmin, snickered from behind him, though she quieted when Miranda’s gaze flicked to her. Sure enough, it was the girl who had given her a full physical examination when she had come into town three weeks ago. His voice was quieter when he spoke again. Like to say her alias aloud would divulge one of the world’s greatest secrets. “Are you ‘The Dutchman?’”

Miranda could do little to smother the smirk that surfaced at her own words. “Will I be starring in your twisted midnight fantasies if I say yes?” 

A deep red flush seeped up from his collar to claim his features.

It pleased her greatly to embarrass him. “If you guys have some sort of wager over this, you better pay that girl her dues. I don’t think much of a man who won’t keep his word.”

He nodded once before turning abruptly and retreating. Karmin could barely contain herself. “Damian! You idiot. I didn’t think you were going to actually do it!”

“Why The Dutchman?” Bucky asked from behind her. “It makes no sense.”

The smirk on her lips became deliciously wicked as she turned back to him. “Wouldn't you like to know.”

Agitation flared on his features but Sam stepped between them before he could respond. “Miranda. What exactly happened here. Did you let him get away?”

“Let him get away.” She repeated slowly before standing up. She gestured towards the stairs. “I was headed down to meet up with you guys. I was about three floors up from this one when I heard her scream.”

“That’s not possible.”

All eyes turned to the technician, who blinked. “She’s been dead for hours. Look at her eyes. At the cloudiness. And based on the stiffness of her body. Her temperature. She’s been dead for a few hours.”

“Well.” Miranda put her hands on her hips. “I heard someone scream.”

“Maybe someone else came onto the scene before you? But ran when they saw her?” Sam offered.

“I don’t know,” Miranda looked down at the woman. “The scream cut off so abruptly, like someone had silenced her. Or something.” 

“Something?”

“Whatever killed her, or at least whatever I had come across, it definitely wasn’t human.”

“I doubt that whoever posed her and cut these symbols into her skin would have time to do so before you made it down a few flights of stairs. And the precision of the lines in what there is of this pentagram...they took their time.” The technician asked.

Miranda blinked, thinking back. It had all occurred in a matter of minutes. It wouldn’t be possible…

“And more importantly, where did he go?” Bucky asked.

“He disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” The technician clarified. “Like a ghost?”

Or a demon, Miranda thought to herself.

A man in a crisp dark suit strode toward them from across the garage. “If you guys want to keep this thing in house, you better wrap it up quick. The local PD will be here any minute.”

“Yessir,” the technician nodded. “We are just about finished here.”

A black van rounded the corner and parked. Two men got out of the back, pulling a body bag with them. Faintly, Miranda could make out the ghosted image of an eagle on its front. 

SHIELD.


	3. Ships Passing in the Night

_A car engine hissed and moaned as it cooled, having suddenly gone from full speed to no speed in the span of a few seconds. Smoke rose from beneath the hood, soft and slow in the midnight light._

_Gravel crunched beneath the soles of his boots, the night air cool on his skin. A man crawled toward him. The fine lapels of his suit were singed and torn and his hands left bloodied prints across the ground._

_“Help. My wife. Please...help.”_

_Tongues of flame lapped over the edges of the hood now. The paint hissed its complaints to the heat. Bucky reached down to grasp the man by the hair. He struggled, but there was little strength left in his body._

_“Howard?” A woman called over the crackle of the fire. Her voice shook, quiet and weak._

_Bucky clenched the fist of his metal hand and drew it back, every muscle in his body winding up to strike. ___

__He jerked awake, sitting bolt upright, sheets clenched to his chest. His breath came in haggard gasps, the sweat on his skin raising a chill that enveloped his whole body. And then he was shivering._ _

___You are safe.__ _

___Your mind is your own. ____ _

____But there, in the unrelenting press of the darkness in his bedroom, it was difficult to convince his reeling mind. With shaking fingers he sought out the lamp on the bedside table. Warm light flooded the room and he felt himself relax as he took in the familiar walls, the framed photo Steve had given him, the crumpled pamphlet Sam had jokingly pressed into his hands when they had passed an evangelist on the street. Bitterness swelled at the sight of it. As if God would have mercy on his soul._ _ _ _

____And there, carelessly discarded after dinner at a local bar the night before, was his sweatshirt. Piled in an ungrateful lump against the wall, it covered the meager nightlight he had installed weeks prior under Sam’s suggestion. It was dim enough to allow for sleep, but bright enough to help bring his scattered mind back after a nightmare. It had been weeks since the last time he had woken in a cold sweat, panicked and disoriented, and the feeling was not welcome._ _ _ _

____Swinging his legs off the bed, he stood, welcoming the grounding feel of the cool air on his skin. The halls were empty, as they typically were at this hour. But when he opened the door into the kitchen, a tall, slim figure stood in the blue glow of the refrigerator’s utility light._ _ _ _

____Miranda._ _ _ _

____He hesitated, standing there in the quiet of night and taking her in._ _ _ _

____It was rare to find a moment when she was not putting up a front, hiding behind an air of arrogance and overinflated confidence. Maybe it was that fakeness that rubbed him the wrong way when it came to her. On paper she was everything they needed, a comrade he should be able to trust with his life. And yet he couldn’t stop himself from wondering what remained when the rest of that show was stripped away._ _ _ _

____She stood at the counter in the shared kitchen with her back to him, unaware of his presence. Soft rifts of music lulled from her headphones in the hushed silence only the midnight hour could offer. Her body swayed lightly to the rhythm._ _ _ _

____He could not deny that she was a fine specimen of a women. Her legs were long and fit, fine lines of muscle accentuated by the sharp shadows cast by the refrigerator light. The shirt she wore was loose and backless, revealing the evidence of long hours in a gym. He had found that he liked the look of a woman who could handle herself in the field. Such a differing opinion from the soft, delicate women he sought out in his youth. Some many times in the last few weeks he caught himself thinking that maybe she was the type of girl he thought he could like._ _ _ _

____She scooped a spoonful of jelly and spread it across the bread on the counter before holding it in her mouth as she laid one side of the sandwich over the other. Slowly she slid the spoon from her lips, and glanced back over her shoulder at him. One dark brow was raised in question, a devilish smirk on her lips._ _ _ _

____“Like what you see Barnes?”_ _ _ _

____And then she would open her mouth, and he would come to his senses._ _ _ _

____Instantly, he could feel his hackles raise. His fingers tightened over his biceps. “I’m trying to decide if I have the self control to deal with your shit tonight. I don’t think the Director would appreciate a late night call to report your demise.”_ _ _ _

____Miranda wadded up the napkin she had been using, and in a lazy aping of a basketball player, shot the napkin into the wastebasket across the room._ _ _ _

_____The Dutchman never misses. _____ _ _

______“Don’t worry, soldier. I was just leaving.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______She pulled the headphones down, settling them over the fine line of her collar bone. He could see darkly inked lines stretching out from her right shoulder and reaching for the column of her neck. She sauntered towards him, taking a larger than necessary bite from her sandwich. Her hair was shorn short on one side, fading out into the skin at the base of her neck. The rest was a messy mass of dark curls that stuck out in an edgy bob._ _ _ _ _ _

______“And I think you would find me a more worthy opponent than you give me credit. One of these nights we should go a few rounds.” She stopped a few feet from him, her eyes raking down his body. He knew she knew exactly how uncomfortable it made him. She wore no makeup, a stark contrast from the dark smokey effect she typically wore. A light dusting of freckles played on her cheeks. Her silver eyes flicked back to his, and the innuendo in her voice was clear when she spoke. “You might even enjoy yourself.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______The smirk never left her lips, but the joke did not reach her eyes. Dark circles smudged the skin there, and despite the swagger in her step, her body was drawn tight. Her shoulder bumped his as she passed. She did not look back at him, but instead simply pulled her headphones back over her ears and disappeared into the darkness of the hallway beyond._ _ _ _ _ _

______He blinked once and then moved away from the threshold and into the kitchen. Every move he made felt loud in the quiet night. The clang of his bowl, the clink of silverware, even the crack of the seal on the milk carton felt like too much. By the time he sat down with his cereal, he was wound tight, unsure if he even wanted the midnight snack anymore._ _ _ _ _ _

______Only a few minutes of solitude crawled by before he heard the shuffle of footsteps in the hall. For a moment he thought it might be Miranda, and armed himself for the confrontation, but he relaxed when he recognized the familiar gate._ _ _ _ _ _

______“This is a happening place tonight, apparently,” Bucky said as Sam meandered into the kitchen, his tone carrying a bit more bite than he had intended._ _ _ _ _ _

______Sam pulled open the refrigerator door. “You ran into Miranda then, I take it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Bucky grunted an answer._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Man, you really don’t like her do you?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Bucky shrugged a shoulder, absently stirring his cereal._ _ _ _ _ _

______“She’s good at her job.” Sam said. “Probably as good as you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“She’s cocky and arrogant. And she always, always has some kind of smart ass comment.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“So do I?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Bucky leveled an unamused look on his friend. Sam held up his hands in surrender._ _ _ _ _ _

______“She was pretty quiet most of the day. Whatever happened in that parking garage really spooked her.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“So you think she’s holding back information too? Something about that whole scene doesn’t sit right with me.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Do murders ever sit right? Much less one performed by some kind of satan worshipping crackpot?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Bucky put a spoonful of cereal in his mouth. “A crackpot who disappears into thin air?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Sam shrugged, setting a glass of milk on the island beside Bucky._ _ _ _ _ _

______Bucky rubbed a hand over tired eyes. “It just seems like there is more going on here than meets the eye. More than she’s letting on.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“She’s never going to admit anything to you if you are walking around with your barbs out.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“And she is any different?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Sam shook his head. “You always feel like you’ve got something to prove when you are new.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“She’s not trying to prove anything. She’s demanding respect that she hasn’t earned.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Look man, I’m just sayin’. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Bucky narrowed his eyes at his friend. “How’s it coming with that shield? Don’t think I didn’t notice those wings today.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Sam was clearly unamused by the shift in subject. “It just don’t feel right. Like I’m pretending to be someone else. Can I ever really fill those shoes? I am just a man.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“So was he.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You know that’s not true.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“What made him great was his humanity. Not that serum.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah. But it didn’t hurt nothin’ either. You think that kid from Brooklyn would have been able to go toe to toe with Thanos?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah. Toe to toe and lose?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Sam sighed, shaking his head._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Look. All I’m sayin’ is that Steve didn’t go it alone either. You’ve got support around you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah, well, I remain unconvinced I’m going to be able to do the job without any of that super juice. I can’t even throw the damn thing right.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I can’t help you there. I never really did understand the physics.”_ _ _ _ _ _


	4. Post Mortem

Miranda watched Bucky take his fifth turn about the room. The fingers of his metal hand opened and closed. He paused in front of a tray populated with an assortment of metal instruments, their tips sharp and perfectly clean. Rolling his shoulder, he moved on.

Signing, Miranda absently flipped another page in the manila folder that had been left unattended on the exam table. “Would you please sit? You are trying my patience.”

“I care little about your patience,” he rumbled as he passed behind her. Again.

His nervous energy was palpable.

“Too many bad memories?” She asked, her tone forced to remain level. Casual. But she knew the comment would strike a cord.

He halted, shoulders tense. Slowly he turned toward her, his mouth opening to unleash a knife sharp response.

“I am so sorry I am late!”

The technician from the scene at the parking garage a few days earlier rushed in, sweeping past Sam who stood stiffly near the door. “I was just waiting for the results on a few more tests.”

Miranda slid off the exam table, boots thumping the floor, and dropped the folder back where she had retrieved it from. The technician paused, eyeing the folder and then Miranda. Its contents had clearly not been meant for her eyes, and she could see the tech warring with whether or not she had the authority to tell her just that. Miranda squared her shoulders and stared unwaveringly back at her.

“Mr. Wilson.” The tech said finally, looking away. “There will be no dead bodies here today. It’s safe. You can join us.”  
Looking a bit sheepish, Sam moved away from the door. Miranda couldn’t stop the single brow that rose of its own accord, judgement clear.

“Hey, just because we walk side by side with death everyday doesn’t mean I like staring it in the face.”

“Our victim was identified as thirty-seven year old Clarita Sanchez.” The tech set a glossy photo of a smiling woman on the exam table. It was a stark contrast to the pale empty stare they had all witnessed days earlier.

“She often volunteered at the homeless shelter a few blocks down from the parking garage you found her in. Apparently it is not uncommon for the employees to park there and walk the rest of the way to work.”

“Do you have a cause of death yet?” Miranda asked, leaning back against the counter opposite the exam table, arms crossed.

She took in a deep breath, shuffling her papers. “As far as we can tell the cause of death is cardiac arrest. Her heart just stopped beating. What we cannot determine is the why. She is young. In good health. No pre-existing conditions. Scientifically speaking, there is no logical reason for it.

Part of the reason we do not have the body here for you to examine for yourselves is that...well...odd things have been happening since we brought the body in for examination.” The technician sifted through her papers, pulling out a few more photographs. “The body is decaying.”

“As all bodies do,” she supplied quickly when the trio exchanged questioning glances. “But at an unheard of rate and in a way I have never seen before. We are continuing to monitor her, but for fear that it may be some sort of flesh eating contagion, only those with a proper suit are allowed near the body.”

Sam held up his hands. “I’m good. No morbid curiosity here.”

“Decaying?” Miranda asked, stepping closer to get a better look at the photos.

“Yes. It started in the tissue damaged by cutting the symbols into her skin. But is quickly spreading throughout her body. Her organs have practically liquified.”

Miranda felt a wave of cold wash over her as she picked a photo up off the surface of the exam table. The woman’s fingers had turned black. Fissures had formed in the surface of the skin and what lay beneath was a blackened web of degrading tissue. Recognition fizzled in the back of her mind.

“You have no idea what is causing it?”

“No.” The technician moved aside to allow them a better look at the photos. “I have a theory...but it’s pretty far fetched. Not really a what. But a why.”

“Does our technician have a name?” Miranda asked, silver eyes flicking to the girl.

“The ‘technician’ has a doctorate in both bio chem and medicine. And her name is Dr. Olivia Herold.”

Sam barked a laugh.

“Impressive,” Miranda picked up another photograph. “So our good doctor has a theory?”

This photo was of the woman’s eyes. Blood had pooled around the rims of her eyelids like tears. Her pupils were cloudy and wretched to look at. Miranda forced each breath to be even and steady as she tried to stamp out the flicker of fear that was pooling inside her.

_This is impossible. ___

__“I just…” Olivia began, “The decay makes no sense. There is no blood flow in the body to carry a contagion through the system as the heart has stopped beating. And the decay definitely started at the wounds which were inflicted post-mortem. So my theory is that whatever was used to cut into the body was coated with whatever is destroying the human tissue. And the reasoning behind that is to destroy the body and any trace as to what they were trying to achieve with their ritual.”_ _

__Miranda reached out to grip the exam table. The room around her swayed slightly and she shut her eyes.  
“I was waiting for the toxicology report to come back before coming here,” Olivia said, pulling the folder out from underneath her arm. They were all quiet as she read through it. _ _

__Miranda watched as her brow furrowed, the line there becoming deeper and deeper. Bucky picked up a photograph that had slipped near the edge of the table. It showed the symbols that were cut into the woman’s skin. They were nothing like the neat red lines they had seen days earlier. Now they were distorted and black. Something oozed from the tail end of one carving. The sight of it made Miranda’s skin itch._ _

__“Have you made any progress with these symbols?” Bucky asked._ _

__“We’ve been digging through our databases, but with how much knowledge we have obtained about the extent of the universe, there is a lot of ground to cover. At this point, we have just been focusing on human languages. Unfortunately, we are exhausting that avenue quickly.”_ _

__Bucky squinted down at the photo in his hand._ _

__“I do have some feelers out to some friends that might have some knowledge on alien languages. And I have reached out to a mentor for her opinion on what is going on with our corpse. She had dealt extensively with alien contagions before.” Olivia set her folder down. “And according to what I have screened so far, there doesn’t seem to be anything worth flagging in her blood work. I really thought something would show up.”_ _

__“Maybe you aren’t testing for the right things?” Miranda asked. “There are so many possible poisons out there. Some nearly undetectable.”_ _

__Olivia looked up at her. “I find it interesting you mention poison specifically.”_ _

__All eyes shifted to her._ _

__Miranda swallowed. “Um, I mean. It could be drug related, I suppose. But isn’t it true that sometimes if you are not specifically looking for something, a slight shift of numbers is difficult to see?”_ _

__Olivia pulled one sheet on top of another, straightening their edges. “I will try and run a few more tests that might display a few more elements that wouldn’t show up on the initial blood panel. With the body decaying at the rate that it is, we are running on a limited amount of uncontaminated blood.”_ _

__“Are you testing the decaying tissue?” Sam asked._ _

__“We are trying. At this point we are just trying to understand what is happening. It’s hard to tell exactly what to look for.”_ _

__“But you will keep trying?”_ _

__“Of course.”_ _

__“Is there anything else you wanted to share with us?” Bucky asked, setting his photo down._ _

__“No,” Olivia smiled at him briefly then looked down at her hands as she gathered the photos. “But if anything new comes up I will be sure to let you know.”_ _

__Miranda smirked, looking down at her watch, “Yikes. If we aren’t careful we are going to be late for our dinner date.”_ _

__Olivia pointedly looked past Miranda to Bucky, her cheeks heating lightly. “With anyone in particular?”_ _

__“Just an old friend.”_ _


	5. Our Sunday Best

Bucky adjusted his shirt for what felt like the fiftieth time. It didn’t feel right on his skin. It was almost too tight across his shoulders. And it had not been the ideal decision for a motorcycle ride. Or maybe it was the unease that settled over him as he stood in front of the small two bedroom home amongst the perfectly cut lawn and the tidy landscaping. He felt out of place in the world that Steve had built for himself. Bucky was like a thumb print in the corner of a painted masterpiece.

Laughter rose from the other side of the door. Taking in a breath, Bucky raised his hand and knocked. The voices hushed and he heard the beat of familiar footsteps. The knob turned and the door swung open. It still caught him off guard. The silver hair. The deeper timbre of his voice. The stiffness only age can weigh on the body of a super soldier. 

“Good to see ya, Buck.”

Bucky smiled, reaching his hand out to clasp his friend’s. “Always.”

“I thought you were bringing the new girl?” Called a voice from beyond the doorway.

Around the dining room table sat Clint Barton, smirking like a mad man, Bruce Banner, James Rhodes and Scott Lang. Several open beers stood sentinel on the table in front of them. 

“Man. Good to see you too, guys.” Bucky chuckled, unzipping his jacket. 

“We see you every week. You are no longer exciting,” Bruce shrugged, smiling widely.

“Ouch,” Steve said, popping the top of a bottle and handing it to him. 

“I came on the bike.” Bucky said, shaking his head. “They should be right behind me.” 

“How do you like her?” Rhodey asked. 

Buck shrugged, taking a drink of his beer. He made a face. “God. Lite beer. Who brought this?”

“Look. Okay.” Scott threw his hands up. “They keep changing the logo. I can’t tell what’s what anymore!”

“Excuses” Clint chided. 

“She’s alright. A little full of herself for my taste.”

“So she’s got some spunk. Can’t complain about that.” Steve said, bringing his glass of water to his lips. “I always liked a girl with a back bone.” 

The front door swung open, the entrant never so much as knocking.

“Alright! The party has officially arrived and he brought the good stuff!” Sam gripped a bottle of whiskey by its neck and held it up over his head in triumph. 

Everybody in the room seemed to shift forward in an attempt to subtlety get a better view of the front door. Bucky was the only one standing in clear sight of the doorway, and when he heard heels on the concrete steps he glanced up. 

Her eyes were still down cast on the steps, watching where each heel landed. The shirt she wore resembled little more than a silk slip, in his opinion. The delicate straps almost seeming out of place over the harsh black lines of her tattoo and the defined musculature of her shoulders. The only bit of decency he felt the outfit maintained was the fact that despite how her skirt clung to her like a second skin, it did at least reach her knees.

Steve, ever the gentleman, moved forward. “It’s great to finally meet you...”

“Miranda Eavers,” she supplied, grasping his hand and giving it a hearty shake. 

She squared her shoulders and straightened her spine, like a warrior preparing for battle, and looked at the men around the table. She smoothed a hand over the silken material of her shirt. “Well. I was told we dress nice for dinner with Steve. I feel I’ve over dressed.”

“You look fine,” Steve said, offering her a chair. 

She moved to take it, then paused. “Is something burning?”

“Oh shit!”

All seven inhabitants of the dining room watched as their oldest companion dashed from the room. Miranda pointed after him. “Ya know, he’s pretty spry for an old guy.”

Further cursing came to them from down the hall. The men exchanged glances.

“Are none of you going to…” She asked slowly. No one made any attempt to move. “Okay.”

Her heels clicked on the hardwood floors as she stepped into the doorway through which Steve had disappeared. 

“What’s wrong?” Bucky heard her ask as he followed a few seconds later. 

Steve sighed. “Well. You are supposed to broil it to melt and toast the cheese. I apparently had it too close to the broiler.”

Bucky couldn’t stop the bark of laughter as Steve dropped the casserole dish onto the grates of the stovetop burners. It was thoroughly charred, a thin trail of smoke rising from its center. 

Miranda leaned in close, inspecting it. “How domestic of you.”

Steve sighed again, wiping his hands on a dishcloth. “This was one of Peggy’s favorite dishes. She usually made it.”

Miranda straightened, and Bucky prepared himself for her insensitive comment, to cut it off before it had even started, but instead she reached for the serving spoon on the counter. 

“Maybe not all of it is ruined?”

She scooped out a heaping helping of charred pasta. The face she made did not instill confidence. Deflating, Steve threw the dish towel onto the counter.

Bucky leaned in, “Nope. That looks pretty much trashed.”

“Helpful.” Steve rubbed his forehead. Exasperated. “Pizza it is then, I guess.”

“Steve hates pizza,” Bucky supplied, taking a drink of his beer.

“Who hates pizza?” Miranda exclaimed.

“I don’t hate pizza. I just, it doesn’t feel like it’s a proper meal for such a gathering.”

“Well,” Miranda settled her hands on her hips. “Let’s not get dire then shall we? What else do you have in this joint?”

Steve and Bucky exchanged a glance. “You are welcome to whatever if you think you can salvage this.”

Miranda opened the fridge. “Well. You have chicken. You can fix anything with chicken.”

“Is there anything…” Steve began to ask but she cut him off. 

“All I need from you is something I can use as an apron. You go enjoy your guests.”

“You are one of my guests. I should cook. You just instruct.”

“No.” She insisted. “I’ve got this.”

Bucky allowed himself to be ushered from the room, taking a seat beside Steve and accepting the offering of a second beer. The conversation in the room did not skip a beat at their appearance. Steve was clearly unhappy with the arrangement and kept stealing glances towards the kitchen.

“Ya know,” Rhodey’s voice quieted and he flicked a beer cap at Bucky. “You guys left out the part where she’s smoking hot.”

“You think so?” Bucky asked absently, a metal finger tapping down on the cap, stopping it in its place.

“Oh yes,” Clint interjected. When all eyes shifted to him, he laughed. “Come on. I’m married. Not blind.”

“Unfortunately, it does not pay to mix business with pleasure,” Sam smirked, pouring another finger of whiskey into his glass.

A chorus of laughs filled the room. 

Again Steve glanced toward the kitchen, and this time Bucky let his gaze follow. He could hear the quiet sounds of movement in the kitchen.

Bucky set his hand on his friend's knee. “I will go check on her and see how it's going.”

Before Steve could respond, Bucky stood up and moved quietly down the hall. She had her back to him, and he took great care to go unnoticed as he leaned against the threshold of the entrance into the kitchen. She was crouched down in front of the oven, inspecting the dish inside. She looked strangely content. More so than he had seen her so far.

“Yes Bucky?”

He blinked. She had an uncanny ability of knowing when he was there. Even when he took great pains to be silent. “Do, uh, you need any help?”

The expression of quiet contentment still softened her features as she looked up at him. Then she stood, wiped her hands on her apron, and looked around the small kitchen.

“Um, I do need to start the rice. You could do that?”

“Trusting me with the big stuff, I see.”

She laughed, and it was as if the sound surprised even her. He felt a strange flutter in his chest at the sight of her smile. A true smile. “You are funny, Barnes.”

Smiling back, he pushed off the threshold and moved across the room to the stove. “So what do I do here?” He asked, setting down his beer. 

“Well. Start by reading the directions.”

He made a face at her. 

“Hey. You are too old for me to hold your hand.” She punched him lightly in the arm. His metal arm. “You got this.”

He laughed, shaking his head. He liked this version of her. One that he could tolerate. One that didn’t have her barbs laid out like land mines. Leave it to Steve. Always brings out the best in everyone.

“If I screw this up, it’s on you, Eavers.”

“Shit, Eavers. You make a mean piece of chicken,” Sam said, leaning back in his chair. “It’s been an hour and I’m still thinking about going back for that last piece.”

She smiled down at the bottle in her hand, shrugging a shoulder from where she sat on the sideboard against the wall beside the table. She had been quiet tonight. So far.

“That’s what I need,” Sam continued. “A woman who can cook me a good meal at the end of the day.”

“How very 1930s of you, Sam,” Miranda downed the last of her bottle. “Do you and Bucky sit about discussing the perfectly suppressed woman.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at her. He had thought maybe, just maybe, they would be able to get along tonight. 

“Hey!” Steve interjected. “Bucky and I grew up in the same decade, you know.”

“Yes. But unlike him, you are a gentleman.”

The men in the room howled in response to her comment and her eyes shifted to Bucky’s, smirking. She was gunning for a rise out of him. Two could play that game.

“I don’t think it’s a sin that I feel a woman should act like a lady,” Bucky said absently, before his blue gaze flicked to her. “No need to be so bitter, Eavers. I know that disappoints you.”

She laughed a wicked laugh.

“And I have been told on multiple occasions that there are times women do not want you to be a gentleman,” Sam interjected. “If you know what I mean.”

The men whooped with laugher and Miranda made a gagging sound. “God, does stuff like that work on women these days?”

“I’ve had plenty a sleepless night, thank you.” Sam winked at her over his glass.  
“And I’m sure those women are real jems,” Miranda’s smile was sickly sweet as she raised her empty bottle to him.

“What about you, Miranda? You gettin’ any side action?” Scott asked.

Miranda rolled her eyes. “What I do in my personal life is none of your business, Lang.” 

“Oh come on. A girl who looks like you has gotta have men lined up out the door,” Rhodey commented.

She shook her head, then looked directly at Bucky. “A lady does not kiss and tell.” 

“So there is someone?” Bucky had not realized he was going to ask the question until the words were out of his mouth. 

Miranda shrugged a shoulder. “Nah. I’m more a one and done kind of girl”. 

“Now are we talking ‘one night stand’ or ‘one true love’ here?” Clint set an elbow on the table, leaning in. “We need specifics here.” 

What Bucky had come to recognize as Miranda’s trademark smirk settled over her features. She leaned back against the wall behind her, crossing her arms. “I think I’ll leave you to ponder that one, Barton.”


	6. Sorcerer Supreme

“I’m not gonna lie,” Sam began, standing before a long flight of steps that lead up to the arched doorway of a rather unassuming tenement. “I thought this place would be a little more…”

“Mystic?” Bucky supplied, looking down at the wrinkled slip of paper he held in his hand. Sam’s voice sounded as foolish as Bucky felt. He swiped a thumb over the messy text scrawled across the paper. “As far as I can tell. This should be it.”

Bucky flashed the words at Sam, who shrugged. “Well, I guess there is only one way to find out.”

The men fell into step beside each other, climbing steadily toward the doorway.

“Who exactly is it that lives here again?” Miranda asked from behind them.

“The Sorcerer Supreme.”

Two rather astonishing things occurred simultaneously. The first was that a swirl of sparks revealed a slim girl in dark robes at the top of the steps. And the second was that Miranda tripped. Both men stopped, Bucky nearly midstep, to stare back at her. Both were at a loss for words.

“Are you...okay?” Sam asked slowly, reaching down to grasp her arm to help her to her feet. “Are you having a stroke?”

For a moment she remained there on the steps cradling her shin. Bucky could see her shoulders expand with a deep breath. Then she pushed up off the concrete steps, tearing her arm from Sam’s grasp. Her face was ashen, her expression acidic. “Neither of you felt the need to share this information with me?”

“Why does it matter?” Bucky asked, descending another step closer to her.

“You told me you were following up on a lead,” Miranda spat.

“This is the lead.”

“Yeah,” Sam chimed in. “I got talking to Bruce about the dead girl last night. He suggested we talk to Strange, since all this pentagram shit is in his wheelhouse.”

Miranda retreated one step down the stairs, then another. “You guys really don’t need me here then.”

“You were the one that saw that thing.” Bucky followed her down step for step. “You are the best one to talk to him about what you saw.”

Her eyes were on the girl at the top of the stairs. When Bucky looked back over his shoulder, the dark haired girl remained still, quietly watching the scene unfold before her.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam asked, bewildered.

“Me and psychics don’t really get along.”

Air rushed around them and the sound of thick, heavy fabric rustled in their ears. Miranda took another step back and thumped into the chest of a man who winked into existence.

“Maybe that’s because you have yet to meet me?”

Every muscle in her body grew tense, her fingers flexing at her side. “I highly doubt that.”

“Dr. Strange,” Sam waved a greeting from his perch on the steps above them. “Good to see you again.”

Dr. Steven Strange moved slowly past Miranda, his eyes traveling down her as he passed. When he had circled around to face her, the expression on her features was dark and bitter.

“You are just going to tell me the same thing every other hack has told me before. And I’m sick of hearing it.”

His eyes searched her face as though there was more written there than the rest of them could see. Bucky rocked up on his toes, curious of what the sorcerer saw there. Interacting with Miranda was like paddling around the edge of an iceberg. Each jutting, frigid spike was carefully placed to distract you from what lurked beneath the surface of the dark water. Miranda raised her chin and squared her shoulders.

But Steven said nothing to her. Instead, he turned to Bucky. Bucky blinked. Miranda had not expected to be snubbed. Her brows twitched upwards just ever so slightly, and if he had not been watching her, he would not have noticed.

“You came here with a purpose. Please, why don’t we step inside and we can talk.” Dr. Strange swung his hand toward the entrance in a long, smooth motion. His cape billowed down the length of his arm, emphasizing the movement.

Bucky opened his mouth to agree, and then everything slanted. His body rocked hard against its will. The ground was not beneath him, his stomach dropping to his toes, and then it was. And everything was right side up again. But they were inside. He took an unsteady step, blinking rapidly as his eyes worked to adjust to the dim lighting. 

Miranda seemed to be the only one unaffected by the change of scenery. She looked far less amused than he had ever seen her. Sam groaned, sticking out his hand to grasp the railing of a wide, sweeping staircase.

“I forgot how much I hate that.” He said.

“Come with me,” Dr. Strange swept past them and down the hall. “Odessa, please tell Ellestrad to meet us in the library.”

The girl who had appeared on the steps bowed her head to him then turned to leave. Her dark eyes slid to Miranda, holding there for a second too long, and then she disappeared into a hall to their right.

It was a pattern that Bucky noticed as they followed the sorcerer deeper and deeper into the residence. Every person they passed paused in what they were doing to watch Miranda, as though her presence was like a beacon in the night. Some would lean over to their companions and whisper. Each set of eyes seem to set Miranda further and further on edge.

“I am assuming you know why we are here?”

“Yes. Your intentions weigh heavy on you. It is difficult to ignore.” Dr. Strange approached a set of heavy wooden doors. They opened at his approach, swinging open like servants bowing to a king. “I took the liberty of gathering some books that I thought might assist us with your inquiry.”

Hundreds of volumes lined the shelves of the dim room, their spines scarred and weathered with age. They crowded the bookcases as though each volume was struggling for its domain, desperate not to be pushed from its place. Bucky reached out and ran his finger on the ridges that lined a particularly thick volume. The air felt heavy, weighted with the extent of knowledge contained in this room. 

Several books were scattered over the surface of a long table. Dr. Strange moved around it, clearly searching for one in particular. The books were a variety of sizes. Some pages were stark white and fresh, while others were yellowed and torn. Some looked as though their pages had been hand cut. And some weren’t even books at all, but scrolls wrapped in leather and carefully tied.

“Would you like to see the photos?” Bucky asked, offering him the folder.

Dr. Strange did not look up. He simply reached out a hand and the folder settled into his fingers. Bucky had felt little more than a breeze before looking down at his own, now empty hand. His tricks and illusions made him uncomfortable.

Sam and Miranda drifted around the table. Miranda ran her fingers across the pages of the books, her expression distant and almost...wistful. Her finger paused over one book in particular. She tilted her head in an attempt to get a better look at it. Recognition flashed across her features, and she stiffened. He watched her glance up furtively, looking toward the doctor but not noticing Bucky observing her. 

The book that held her attention so raptly was rather small. It was backed in leather the color of blood. Something had been tooled into its cover, but he was too far to see exactly what. The edges of the pages had been smudged black, like they had been dipped in ink. Unease settled in his stomach, though he could not entirely say why.

“The language is most definitely demonic.”

Bucky looked back at Steven. “Demonic?”

“Like as in demons? Satan?” Sam asked, skepticism plain as day in his voice.

“You walk among gods, and do not think that there might be a devil?” Dr. Strange inquired over the open book in his hand.

Miranda snorted from the corner of the table. Again, Dr. Strange settled an unnerving gaze on Miranda. She stared unblinkingly back at him. His eyes narrowed slightly. There was something of an unspoken challenge between them. A dare in her eyes. But once again, he did not speak, simply looked back at the pages of the book in his hand.

“There are similarities to the symbols in this book, in many of these books, but never exact imagery.”

Sam picked up a book at the far end of the table. “ _The Macrocosm of Necromancy and Other Dark Arts. _” He looked up at them. “What the hell is all this?”__

__“All of these books deal with the Dark Arts,” Steven explained. “A practice that has been banned for centuries. Necromancy, for example. I do not think you would argue with me as to why it is frowned upon to animate a corpse.”_ _

__The flash of Miranda’s smile caught Bucky’s eye. She was absently flipping the pages of a thick volume across from them. While she was not giving them her full attention, she was clearly still listening._ _

__Bucky moved to stand beside him, studying the symbols he pointed out. “You can see the similarity of the curve in this one to the symbol on her thigh. And this one.” A book rose from the table, startling Miranda, and snapped across the table and into the sorcerer’s open hand. “Look how much it resembles this one, but yet not quite.”_ _

__“Which means what exactly?” Bucky asked._ _

__“I think that the languages in these books here were influenced by the ones found on this woman’s body. I think that what we are dealing with here is very old.”_ _

__“Like centuries?” Sam asked._ _

__“Like eons.”_ _

__Sam whistled an exclamation._ _

__“Do you think you would be able to use the fragments that you are finding in these other languages to help decipher what exactly the runes on our victim mean?” Bucky asked._ _

__“I should think we might be able to put something together. But it will take some time. I will pull in some of my best minds to help me on this.”_ _

__“We aren’t even really sure if this is something to be concerned about yet.” Bucky said, “I'm not sure you need to make this your top priority.”_ _

__“If someone is messing around with black magic that shouldn’t be, that is of great concern to us.”_ _

__“Can you not see it coming?”_ _

__All eyes shifted to Miranda._ _

__“What?” Steven asked._ _

__“If something bad is coming, can you see it?” Miranda asked. There was a seriousness to her tone that Bucky had never heard before._ _

__“It’s hard to say. There are thousands of pathways, thousands of outcomes that hinge on the seemingly insignificant decisions of the populous. Hundreds of catastrophic events that are sidestepped by the divergence of a single person.”_ _

__“So I take that as a no?” Miranda said, crossing her arms._ _

__“It’s difficult to tell which hypothetical pathway will become a certain future.”_ _

__“Why would you even ask that question?” Sam asked, exasperated._ _

__“Call it morbid curiosity,” Miranda said, smirking, her typical guile falling back into place as she flipped shut the book in front of her._ _

__“I would like to not call it anything,” Sam said. “What I would really like is for people to not ask questions we don’t want answers to.”_ _

__Dr. Strange laughed. “Sometimes, we don’t get that choice.”_ _

__He lifted his hands, his fingers drawing circles in the air. The atmosphere of the room shifted, crackling with electricity. Sparks lit the dark space between two bookshelves before swirling wider. A shaft of daylight warmed the cool room. Bucky could see the common room of the Avengers complex through the portal._ _

__“We will keep looking into this,” Steven said. “I will let you know when we have anything significant.”_ _

__Bucky nodded and turned to follow his companions, who had already stepped warily through the portal._ _

__“Mr. Barnes.”_ _

__Bucky paused, looking back. “Yes?”_ _

__“I just want to be sure you understand the company you are keeping.” Dr. Strange was looking past him, over his shoulder. Bucky followed his gaze to Miranda, who stood on the other side of the portal, laughing at something Sam said._ _

__“Who. Miranda?”_ _

__“Are you sure that is her true identity?_ _

__“She’s a soldier. Vetted by SHIELD. Considering past events, I think they take recruitment pretty seriously these days.”_ _

__“I see a great darkness in her. She’s been touched by death in a way I’ve never seen.”_ _

__“She served as a sniper. Credited with hundreds of kills. Anyone who ends a life carries that darkness with them.”_ _

__Steven did not look away from her. Something in his face made Bucky uneasy. There was a truth the doctor was keeping from him._ _

__“You’ve seen something haven’t you?”_ _

__“I can’t be sure of what I’ve seen. Without the time stone, things are far less clear.” Finally, his eyes settled back on Bucky, his intensity unnerving. “Just be careful. People aren’t always what they seem.”_ _


	7. Pulling Punches

“Couldn’t sleep?”

He startled. It was not that Miranda had tried to conceal herself from him. It was simply that he had not noticed her as he had entered the training complex. Which never happened. Ever.

“My god!” She laughed. “Are you okay?”

Immediately, his already terrible mood slunk even lower into abysmal. He took great care to avoid where she stood among the weights and barbells. He had wanted to be alone, to sink below the surface of his grievous thoughts and drown in his sorrows. 

“Alright,” She dropped a weight to the ground at her feet. It thudded a protest. “I’ll try not to step in your shitty attitude.”

He opened the cabinet door with more force than he had intended and it banged open. He should have brought his head phones. He could have drowned out her inevitable comments. He pulled out the wraps for his hands. All he had to do was make it across the room before he used her for practice instead of the punching bag.

But then she was across the room, her presence hot and electric behind him. “No.” She grabbed hold of his shoulder and wrenched him around. “You know what. Why don’t you tell me why you hate me so damned much.” 

She shoved him hard, her words acid. “Is it because you come from a world where women were no better than servants? Arm candy meant to be seen, not heard? Yessir. No sir. Would you like more potato with your steak, darling?”

“You know nothing about the world that built me,” He snarled back, giving no ground as she stepped closer.

“You were forged in a fire built by the greed of terrible men with horrible intentions.” Her voice went deathly even, each word spoken with a slow intention. “But don’t pretend for a second like you are the only one who has ever been burned.”

Bucky lunged at her. He had always prided himself in his self control. Felt that even in those first few days after the helicarriers had fallen into the water, when he had been struggling to decipher a slew of surfacing memories, he had remained to some extent composed. But this woman...she made everything crumble. No matter how hard he worked to solidify the ground under his feet, she always sent everything into a tailspin.

His hands moved of their own accord, striking at her over and over. She ducked under his fists, moving out of his reach. 

“You are pulling your punches.”

He charged, swinging at her again and again. And again and again she deflected the blows, never allowing him a square hit.

“I’ve seen the footage,” she taunted, dancing backwards on the balls of her feet, fists raised. “I saw a man who walked out of a government containment facility like it was a church on sunday. Who threw Captain American down an elevator shaft. Strangled Black Widow-”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Oh, it was you. It’s a part of you that you are too scared to open the door on.”

He charged her again but she was lightning quick. Her hands seemed to be everywhere at once. It made him angry. She was just a woman. He was the Winter Soldier. She grasped his wrist, deflecting the blow past her body, and swung inside the perimeter of his arms. She drove her elbow hard into his chest. He staggered a step. The soft sole of her tennis shoe replaced the hard point of her elbow and she kicked hard against him. 

He allowed himself to be pushed back another step, rubbing his palm against what would no doubt be a bruise in the next morning. 

“You are the Winter _fucking _Soldier,” She bit out. “Act like it.”__

__He leveled a hard gaze on her as she circled him. He could feel his fingers flexing, aching to strike at her. To show her exactly what he could do._ _

__She passed close to him, her shoulder inches from his. Her silver eyes narrowed as she scrutinized his face. “What are you so afraid of?”_ _

__“That I might not be able to put it back in the cage.”_ _

__“Why don’t we find out?”_ _

__“In the middle of the night with no one to stop me?”_ _

__She put her hands on her hips, a devilish grin on her lips. “Barnes, are you concerned you might drag me into some dark corner and have your way with me?”_ _

__“Miranda.” His tone was glacial. Can she never be serious?  
.  
Miranda strode over to the table where she had discarded her things. She pulled out a gun from beneath her sweater. “Will this make you feel better?”_ _

__“This is not worth my life.”_ _

__Miranda laughed, checking to ensure there was a round in the chamber. “God. Does no one carry non-lethal rounds in the Avengers? Or do you always shoot to kill?”_ _

__Bucky quietly watched her pull a concealed carry holster from the pile and secure it around her waist. He pointedly looked away as she slipped it beneath the waistband of her athletic pants, clearly not caring what she might flash his way. Then she slipped the gun into its place at the small of her back and strode towards him, hands held out in question._ _

__“What if I don’t give you the chance to use that thing.”_ _

__“I think,” she rolled her shoulders, bouncing off the balls of her feet as she loosened up her muscles once more, “being underestimated is one of the biggest advantages you can have.”_ _

__Bucky closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. If she wanted this, who was he to tell her no? Wiping that smug look of her face would be undeniably satisfying. And it had been so long since he had been able to move without holding back. To be able to embrace what he truly was, what he could really do...would be liberating. In a way he had not felt since coming back to himself._ _

__He opened his eyes and focused wholly on her and everything around them fell away. He took in every inch of her body, accessing every bit of information he could grasp. How she leaned harder on her left foot. The anticipation in the set of her muscles. She would be fast. And she would be efficient. He had size on her, and she knew it, so she would use her agility to her advantage._ _

__When their eyes met, her expression changed. She could see the shift in his decision. Her grin broadened as she made a sound of triumph._ _

__And this time, she was the one to make the first move._ _

__He ramped it up slowly, still hesitant despite her complaints that he was still holding back. But no matter what he threw at her, she was able to extricate herself._ _

__Fighting with Miranda was like dancing. They settled into a rhythm. Each person taking turns leading their steps. Occasionally, she would get him off center enough to leverage him off his feet, or he would catch her arm and fling her. He had been horror struck at first, not entirely registering what he had done until she was airborne. But he had discovered that she was like a cat. No matter how she was thrown, her feet always found the floor first._ _

__And then she was laughing. At first, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was hearing over the sound of their exertion. She was winded and the sound was breathless. But that's what it was._ _

__A laugh._ _

__And then he found that he was smiling too._ _

__Bucky lost track of the time they spent trying to better each other. It had become more than a show of brute force, but instead a practice of finesse. They exercised the mechanics of hand to hand combat, leaning on each other’s weaknesses and forcing them to step out of their comfort zone._ _

__He focused less on landing a blow, and more on catching her off balance. She was incredibly quick. He knew he had made contact with her body several times, but never with the full force of what he threw at her. She was always moving and eluding what he had intended for her._ _

__It was easy to lose himself in this, to forget about what had driven him from his bed. The night was nothing but their ragged breaths. The tang of sweat. The sharp burn of his muscles. He had forgotten this part. The enjoyment he felt in pushing his body to its limits._ _

__Finally, she made a mistake. It was a slight one and he almost didn’t notice the fumble in her steps, but once he did, he knew he had her._ _

__She did not go down easy or alone. They hit the mats in a tangle of limbs. She laughed, slipping from his hold again and again. She struck at him, his hands, his shoulders, his legs. They were not hard hits, but they were distracting and disorienting. She tried to roll away from him, but he brought his knee down on the other side of her hip, keeping her in place. He had one wrist pinned down to the mat. Her skin was warm and against his, her pulse beating hard against his palm. He drew his other hand back, winding up to strike, taking advantage of the moment that she realized he had trapped her. He could see the gears turning as she worked to resolve the setback._ _

__Then he struck._ _

__Unlike so any times before she did not roll away. His fist drove down toward her with more force than he had used in a long time and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Horror filled him like ice. He would crush her ribs. Drive his fist into her heart. Pulverize her lungs. But before any of this could happen, slim fingers wrapped around his fist and stopped it dead in its path._ _

__They stayed like that for a moment, his metal fist gripped in her hands. There was a glorious smile on her face. Pure enjoyment. A stark contrast to the confusion and astonishment that he knew was plainly displayed on his features._ _

__“Impossible,” he breathed._ _

__He could see the moment that what had happened registered on her face. The smile fell from her lips, shattering around them like glass. It had been so overbearingly present as they sparred, that in its sudden absence he realized it was the first full, true smile he had witnessed from her. Color leached from her skin until she was an unsettling color of grey._ _

__She scrambled across the matted floor until she was out from beneath him. Bucky remained on his knees, sitting back on his heels as they stared at each other. Breathless._ _

__One heartbeat. Then two._ _

__She lifted a shaking hand to press it into her collar bone, her chest heaving as she worked to catch her breath. Was there more to this girl than her history with SHIELD. What had she been before they had found her?_ _

___People aren’t always what they seem. ____ _

____“I...” she started, clearly unsure where the sentence might lead her._ _ _ _

____“Yo!”_ _ _ _

____Both of them jolted at the sound of Sam’s voice. He stood in the doorway, rubbing tired eyes. “We are getting reports of a disturbance down on 5th and Mercury. Suit up. Local PD is requesting we be first on the scene.”_ _ _ _

____“Did they say what kind of disturbance?” Bucky asked, getting to his feet. He glanced back at Miranda, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes._ _ _ _

____“They lumped it under the ‘supernatural’ variety. So be prepared for anything.”_ _ _ _


	8. Mercy

It could not be denied that they made a deadly pairing. Sam had taken to the air to gather any reconnaissance from there and then infiltrate the buildup from the rooftop. That had left Bucky and Miranda to enter through a door on the ground level that someone had used a crowbar to leverage open.

They moved seamlessly down the corridor, each step as silent as the next, following a dim trail of lit candles.

“I wanna know who spends the money on these wretched candles,” Miranda grumbled as she swung around the next corner, automatic rifle raised, finger over the trigger. “These things are unreasonably expensive.”

Bucky glared back at her, clearly unhappy with her decisions to speak at all, not to mention over something so trivial. But she couldn’t help it, her body was wired on nervous energy, her mind still frantic over what she had done in the training room.

_Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. ___

__Bucky raised a hand, and she halted. Voices could be heard ahead. Several voices. Miranda stepped closer to Bucky, straining to hear._ _

__“Do you think it worked?” a girl’s voice asked._ _

__“It should have worked,” came a deeper voice. “We followed Oliver’s direction to the “T.” Oliver. What are you doing? Don’t touch that.”_ _

__“Chill.” Came a third voice. Oliver, most likely. “It’s this. This needs to be turned just a little…”_ _

__There was a snap in the air, like static electricity. Bucky glanced back at her and then lifted his gun, settling it on his shoulder wearily. Every hair on her arms raised, her skin tingling._ _

__“What did they do?” Bucky asked. Clearly he had felt it too. His breath curled from his lips in a trail of steam._ _

__Miranda shivered. The night had held fast in the eighties despite the absence of the sun. But here, she could feel her fingers begin to tingle with an unnatural cold. Warmth drained from the space as whatever they had just awakened pulled energy from the world around it. Light burst from the doorway they lay in wait beside. Miranda blinked, her eyes watering. Then it flickered and faded to a dim glow._ _

__Something rumbled from the room beyond. A sound she would recognize anywhere._ _

__“Shit,” She snarled, pushing past Bucky._ _

__“No! Wait!” He reached for her, his fingers scrambling over her kevlar vest but not finding purchase._ _

__The room looked as though it had once been a conference room. It was a broad space with tall ceilings that disappeared into shadows untouched by candle light. Evidence of its past life hung like skeletons on its walls in the form of faded motivational posters and frames whose accolades had long been torn from their mats. Three figures stood at the center of the room, their shadows stretched long in the wake of the ethereal light that burned before them._ _

__Miranda moved forward slowly, gun raised, though none of them even seemed to notice her. The light rose from a body laying on the floor. No. Not the body. The runes carved into her skin. All at once the shafts of light all pulled together. Sound muted. The air stilled. Even her heart felt as though it ceased to beat in that stretch of time. Then everything that had drawn together burst apart._ _

__Miranda was thrust backwards in a rush of heat and sulfur. All she could smell was the acrid scent of burnt hair. A horrible, piercing ring stabbed at her ear drums as she pulled herself to her feet, disoriented and aching. The walls were nothing but their bare bone structures, the aged sheetrock crumbled on the floor. Bucky was lying in the hall, rolling slowly to his side._ _

__The woman, who had been standing nearest the body, lay on the floor, eyes wide as her body convulsed around the large spear of splintered wood buried in her chest. Blood bubbled around the wound and pooled on the floor. Her two male companions had pulled themselves to their knees. One cradled his arm, clearly broken._ _

__And at the center of it was a writhing, wispy mass of blackness. The same complete blackness that Miranda had witnessed in the parking garage. It did not glow in the light of the fire lit by the Explosion. It unfurled itself, showing them the unnatural lengths of its limbs, the needle sharp points of its fingers._ _

__Miranda took an unsteady step towards the creature. It howled. The sound was bigger than the room, pushing against the boundaries, scratching at her ear drums, and then it leapt up through the ceiling. It’s body passed through it like it was no more than water._ _

__Miranda stared at the place where the creature had disappeared and sighed._ _

__“We did it,” One of the men said, shaky and astonished._ _

__Miranda snapped free the gun hidden at the small of her back and lifted it from its holster. Neat and methodical, she shot both of the men. They dropped like stones._ _

__“Miranda!”_ _

__Veins of blue dispersed beneath the surface of their skin, distributing the substance into their system._ _

__“They were Icers. God.” Miranda snarled, grasping Bucky and hauling him up to his feet. “Come on, soldier. Shake it off. We can’t let that thing leave the building.”_ _

__When they reached the second floor, she and Bucky parted ways._ _

__“We will cover more ground this way. But be smart,” he told her as they split up. “Whatever happened down there, it’s messed with our communications. I can’t reach Sam.”_ _

__She had nodded, before pulling a small flashlight from her belt and stepping away from him and into the dark._ _

__Long, grotesque shadows stretched and twisted in response to the shaky beam of her flashlight. It was almost difficult to tell what she was seeing in the stark black and white world she found herself in. The building smelled faintly of smoke, a remnant of the events that had transpired on the first floor. She passed several office doors. Most of the rooms were empty, though some still contained a desk or chair. An eerie reminder that life had once thrived in this building._ _

__Some shouted. Bucky? Miranda bolted to the end of the hall and hesitated, listening. It was quiet again._ _

__“Barnes?”_ _

__The name felt awkward on her lips. Gun raised, she proceeded down another hall. Left, then right. Right again. She was in a labyrinth, and she felt no better than a mouse struggling to follow the scent of cheese._ _

__Gunshots split the silence. They flashed at the end of the hall._ _

__“Barnes!” Miranda shouted again, running now._ _

__A body crashed through the walls of the hall in front of her and into a room on the right. Smooth as silk, the creature slipped through the craters, following what it had thrown. Bucky was firing again, relentless._ _

__“It will do you no good!” Miranda shouted, but she knew he would never hear her over the volley of gunshots._ _

__The click of an expelled gun echoed in her ears as she reached them. When she launched herself over what remained of the wall and into the room, she found that Bucky had thrown his gun to the side. A knife flashed as he pulled it from the sheath at his side. It flipped neatly in the air and settled into his palm like it had been made to fit his hand, a final piece that had not set into place until just that moment._ _

__It streaked like lightning through the air as he slashed once, twice, three times at the creature. Each time, no matter where he struck, the blade met with nothing but smoke. It trailed along the arch of the blade like a streak of ink in the night._ _

__For just a moment, Miranda stood in the opening, transfixed by him. He was relentless and savage. It was a side of him she had not witnessed in the field, and only caught it in glimpses last night. After all, it was hard to truly see him when she was trying not to be smeared into the mats. It was glorious to see him embrace what she knew he was capable of, but he would be no match for this monster. Not when he had no idea what he was truly dealing with._ _

__And as she feared, just as she stepped into the fray, he faltered. This thing was not human. It did not have mercy. And so, when it saw the opportunity, it took it. It reached forward through the gap in Bucky’s defense and sunk the tips of its needle sharp fingers into his skull._ _

__“No!” Miranda screamed, pushing her legs as hard as she could muster._ _

__Bucky sunk to his knees, his body gone limp. His lips parted, and a slim curl of black smoke slipped from them._ _

__And then, he began to scream._ _

__The sound was raw, filled with the horror of a wretched memory. The sound of it nearly made her sick. And that horror would be tenfold of what it had truly been in the clutches of this monster. It would have warped his mind, played on the fears buried there. The creature had so focused its energies on capturing Bucky’s mind, that his body was the most tangible it had yet to be._ _

__It was terribly solid when she collided with it, going low with her shoulders in hopes of knocking it off balance. Her shoulder screamed in agony at the effort of it, but she succeeded. The creature screeched its protest at her intrusion, and she felt it shutter as it released Bucky from its hold. They staggered together, monster and human struggling for balance, but they would not get it._ _

__The creature dissipated when they hit the ground, its body dissolving into mist. Miranda was on her feet instantly. It was gone for now. But it would not stay gone. Bucky was on his knees, his forehead pressed against the dirty carpeting. The heels of his palms dug into his temples. His body trembled when she touched him._ _

__“James?” She said softly, kneeling beside him. “Bucky” did not feel proper. “Bucky” was the term his friends used towards him. An endearment. They were not friends. They were barely acquaintances. Coworkers only. And in this moment of vulnerability, she felt ashamed to be the one to witness it._ _

__He jolted away from her touch, scrambling across the floor._ _

__“No!” He screamed at her. “Please don’t. I can’t do it again.”_ _

__His eyes were not seeing her. They were seeing whatever suppressed horror that monster had dredged from the swamps of his mind._ _

__“It’s me,” She said, even softer now. “Miranda. It’s safe.” Then she paused, considering. “Well. Safe...ish. For now.”_ _

__His chest heaved in ragged breaths. A single tear rolled over the ridge of his cheekbone. But slowly, his eyes focused on her._ _

__“Hey,” She smiled at him. “Welcome back.”_ _

__But before Bucky had a chance to say anything, a wave of black rushed up through the floor. A screeching, clawing mass flung Miranda backwards. She landed on her shoulder, pain sparking as the joint was pulled awkwardly, and rolled back to her feet. It barreled at her again, and before she could move out from its path it struck her. The breath oofed from her lungs in a horrible wheezing sound. They fell backwards against the windows of the wall behind her, which shattered the instant they collided with them. Their momentum carried them through and they plummeted to the shop floor below._ _

__They hit the ground hard, though the creature's body broke a fraction of the concussion of the fall. She pulled at whatever her hands could find purchase on, struggling to breathe, to orient herself, to focus on what needed to be done. The creature rasped a groan. Pulling herself to sitting and using her weight to hold the stunned creature, she reached down and pulled free the long dagger that was sheathed against the length of her thigh._ _

__“Mistress, please….” It hissed, pleading. “Have mercy.”_ _

__For just a moment, her raised blade hesitated, flashing like lightning as firelight struck the serrated edge of its blade. But only for a moment._ _

__“Do not plead for your life like you are one of mine,” she snarled. “You have earned no mercy from me.”_ _

__And then she plunged the dagger down into the creature's chest. With a beseeching cry, it burst apart, exploding in a thunderous swirl of smoke and wind that left her breathless. Concrete bit into her knees, the cold seeping through the material of her pants. Gasping, Miranda held the dagger in her hand, twisting it in the moonlight. No blood stained the blade. Ornate, ink black designs swirled over the gleaming silver surface, dancing around runes inscribed down its length._ _

__How was this possible? How had it crossed the Divide?_ _

__“Miranda?”_ _

__Every muscle in her body jerked into motion at once. She slid the dagger back into the sheath at her thigh and staggered to her feet just as Bucky rounded the threshold of a set of doors nearly thirty feet from her._ _

__“Are you alright?” He rasped, rubbing his throat. “You just fell like two stories?”_ _

__“I’m okay. I think.” She patted her hands over her chest and stomach, making a half hearted attempt at an inspection of her person._ _

__“You are bleeding,” he said, his hand absently touching his own forearm._ _

__Miranda looked down. She was in fact bleeding. Dark red fluid welled over the edges of a gash across her forearm. Her breathing was steadying, the adrenaline slowly leaving her body. In its place came the ache of the injury._ _

__“I am.” She pressed a gloved hand over the wound. Pain spiked up her arm and she winced. Blood dripped from the tips of her fingers._ _

__For a moment they were both quiet, both staring at the blood drops on the floor gathering around her boots._ _

__Finally Bucky spoke. “That thing. Where did it go?”_ _

__Miranda looked up at him, hesitating, unsure how to answer him._ _

__“Is everyone alright?” Sam called down from above them, leaning over the jagged edge of the window she and the monster had plummeted through._ _

__Bucky’s eyes never left her._ _

__“I’m alright,” Miranda called up to Sam. “But I’m not sure where it went. I think I blacked out for a sec. Figures you’d show up after all the action is done.”_ _

__Bucky’s eyes never left hers. She waited for him to say something, to call her bluff. To yell or storm across the space between them and demand the truth. Instead he simply said, “You should have that looked at.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to get interesting.... :)


	9. Watchmen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignore the extra spaces. If I tried to remove them it messed up the formatting!

The air of the summer night was warm on Miranda’s skin as she strode down the sidewalk, hands in her pockets, body forced into a casual manner. She kept her steps slow and easy despite how badly she wished to sprint across the pavement. A homeless man looked up at her as she passed. His hand stopped mid reach toward his cup of coins when she leveled her heated gaze on him. A small cluster of young men cat-called from across the street. She diligently ignored them. This part of town was no place for a woman at night. Unfortunately for them, she was not an average woman.

She glanced both ways at the curb of an intersection, then jogged across it. Her mind was reeling, playing over and over what had happened in that abandoned manufacturing plant. SHIELD had already been on the scene when they had arrived back at the destroyed conference room. The men Miranda had shot were just beginning to come to, already handcuffed and drug up against what remained of the far wall. When Miranda had come to stand over them and they had shrunk back from her leering gaze.

The man on the right had gaunt cheekbones, his red rimmed eyes sunken far into his sockets. His skin was sallow and his cheeks fever bright. He stared back at her with a hatred so entirely vehement, that it had almost caught her off guard. The man on the left was bright eyed and terrified. There was only a small amount of pink and angry vessels at the corner of one eye. He had been a stark contrast to his companion.

“This one,” Miranda had pointed to the thinner man. “Question him.”

As a pair of SHIELD agents in dark gear moved forward, the man on the left began to shriek. “It was his idea!” he wailed. “Oliver wanted to do this. He convinced us to help him. Mariah, oh Mariah…”

“They’re not taking you,” Miranda had spat, disgusted. “God. Have even just a little self respect.”

Then Sam had called her across the room. “It’s another pentagram. But this one is far more fucked up than the first.”

Miranda let out a breath and looked up at the night sky. Over the pollution of the city lights, she could make out a few pin pricks of stars. She had already known what she would see. And no matter how many times she came across an identical scene, always by an ignorant ametuer, the disgust never stopped. No amount of time was enough to dull her to this.

Like in the parking garage, a woman had laid at the center of the pentagram. She was neatly arranged, arms crossed over her chest, eyes open with the unfocused stare of death. The symbols on this body were not nearly as neatly cut as the first. Some of the strokes were wrong, scarcely resembling what they should, but they had been close enough.

A young tech had gasped, stumbling back from a deep bowl at one point of the oblong pentagram. She gagged and covered her mouth, turning from the scene. Everyone had paused to watch as Miranda moved over to the bowl and nudged it with her foot. It had been filled with a deep sludgy liquid. It sloshed over the edge and onto the toe of Miranda’s boot. And there, in the rocking movement of the fluid, a small shape appeared. Miranda closed her eyes, looking away.

“Is that…” A man had come up behind her, horror struck. “Is that an infant?”

“My God,” someone had whispered.

There is no god here, Miranda had wanted to say, only the devil.

The other items around the pentagram had levered on the side of disturbing. Bones that had been pulled from the carcass of a bird that had been discarded a few feet from the circle. A candle whose flame burned an unsettling shade of blue. Teeth arranged in a macabre smile, the elongated canines gleaming in artificial lights set up about the scene. Blood still colored their roots showing evidence of the gums they had been pulled form. And at the top of the star, a small figurine that looked as though it had been carved from bone.

Miranda’s pace quickened as she remembered the fear that had welled up to overcome her at the sight of it all. This attempt had been the closest she had seen in decades. So close, in fact, that it had allowed that lesser demon through. And if that truly meant what her fears were screaming at her that it did, things could be taking a hard left into Shitsville very quickly.

The moon was high in the sky, when Miranda pushed open an ornate wrought iron gate. It screeched a protest, filing a grievance for its lack of maintenance. As she settled it back into place, she ran a finger of the latch. For so long this gate has stood faithfully, always welcoming her as she returns again and again.

The path ahead of her rose from the unkempt grass in the form of crumbled and uneven pavers. She ran her hand over the ridged surface of a headstone. Its inscription had long been worn by the hand of time. So often she wondered what the oldest of these stones said. What loving words they conveyed back when someone cared to read them. There were hundreds of graves surrounding her, their markers standing like soldiers in the night.

Her arm throbbed dully. Paramedics on the scene had tended to the cut and wrapped the injury, but her body was being sure to lodge its complaints for the treatment it had received that night. Every inch of her felt as though it would be covered with bruises by morning.

“You realize that you will never get that ‘gotcha moment’ with me, Areia. You should just stop trying.”

A slim woman stepped out from the cover a broad trunked oak, its gnarled branches reaching haphazardly towards the night sky. While her dark skin lended nearly perfect camouflage in the night, her platinum hair showed metal bright in the moonlight, a fair match to the white of her smile. “But that would ruin all the fun. We did not expect you so soon, Mor. You aren’t due for another few weeks.”

“Things have changed.” Miranda said, her hand settling over her phone in her pocket. “Gather the others. We need to talk.”

She followed the girl through the night with only the froth of blonde curls as her beacon in the dark. The night was quiet, the song of crickets their only companions. Once they crested the long rolling hill that rose from the entrance to the cemetery, she could see the warm glow of a flood light in the distance, marking the location of the keeper's manor.

It was an older home. Two stories with an incredible amount of tall, slim windows perfectly trimmed with dark shutters. The door was a simple design. Dark wood. Utilitarian. Areia turned the knob, and golden light flooded the front steps.

They stood in the small foyer, a wandering stairway sweeping along the side wall up into the second story. Areia grasped the globe of the pillar at the end of the railing and swung up onto the first step.

“Girls! We’ve got company. Get your asses down here.”

Several young women flooded out onto the landing at the top of the stairs that overlooked the foyer. The women were an array of nationalities, like a brilliant rainbow of humanity.

“Mortekaia?” A short, dark haired girl, Eiko, stepped to the forefront then moved down the stairs. Her almond shaped eyes studied her as though the reason for her visit was written across her forehead in a language she didn’t understand. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Miranda accepted her embrace, marveling, as she had so many times before, at the smallness of this woman. And yet, she had fought alongside this girl in battle more times than she could count and she had always been a formidable foe and gallant leader.

“I have something important to speak to you all about.”

“Then let us go into the living room. I imagine the news you bring is unpleasant,” A young woman with fiery red hair, Sorcha, gestured to the french doors to their left, the lilt in her tone warm and familiar. “We might as well be comfortable.”

Miranda tried her best to keep from fidgeting with agitation as she waited for nearly a dozen girls to fit themselves into the little blue grey room. Instead, she resorted to turning the phone in her hand over and over. She could not bring herself to sit in the overstuffed arm chairs built for the fashion of decades past. Instead, she leaned against a small writing desk, fingers tapping out the staccato beat of her impatience. 

When they had all settled, seated in various locations, uncaring if they were proper seats or not, Miranda finally spoke. “I think there must be a crack somewhere in the Divide. Something is getting through.”

The girls remained quiet, knowing she had more to say, but the skepticism on their faces was clear.

“I encountered a man today. He was most definitely possessed. Not fully. But the deterioration of a lengthy possession was there... Just strong enough that the influence had begun to spread to his friends.” 

“And you think it’s…” A girl of eastern descent, Valanna, began before trailing off. As though to speak the name would proffer forth its owner.

“Well.” Miranda’s thumb flicked over the screen of her phone. “There is also this.” 

The girls crowded close. Aeria reached out to zoom in on a section of the photo and then flicked to the next. 

“It’s started again.” A tall, slim girl, Astlyr, said, pulling the length of blonde hair behind her ear. Her long features serious.

“Yes.” 

“And they are close this time.” Astlyr moved back, allowing the other girls to inspect the photos. 

“Closer than I have seen in a very long time.” 

Frowning, a dark featured girl named Domini crossed her arms. Her accent was hard and rough. “There has been no activity that we have seen. Usually, we would see some kind of surge in the energy field if something is getting through. The ley lines have been business as usual.” 

“I have witnessed two pentagrams now. One of which let through a demon. While it was not a powerful one. I would think you would have noticed some sort of ripple,” Miranda argued.

“Mor. We are never going to keep you from the Convergence. But there has been nothing. We dedicate our lives to looking for those anomalies. One creature coming through would hardly be enough to create a surge greater than the variances it accomplishes on its own.” Aerie assured her.

“I know.” Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose. “ I just...call it peace of mind. Call it insanity, if you want.” 

“We can go down there if you want. Two girls are on watch as we speak.” Domini was offering what Miranda wanted, but it was clear in the tone of her voice that to take up the offer would be an insult on her and the other Watchmen. 

“Domini.” Eiko warned. “She carries the weight of the world on her shoulders. In such an instance, paranoia is often an unwitting bedfellow. You would do well to remember your place.”

Domini rolled her eyes, stepping back from the circle of attention.

“I want to see it for myself. I will never sleep otherwise.”

Eiko nodded compliently, gesturing for her to follow. Areia rose with Miranda, falling in beside her as they followed Eiko from the room and out into the foyer and toward the front door. 

Moonlight silvered the landscape of the cemetery. There were five main roads that met at a single point in the center of the graveyard. And at that center point was a circle drive that surrounded a grand mausoleum. Every step toward its entrance quieted a small, ever nagging part of herself that desired to be closer to what it contained, buried deep down in its depths. 

Two girls stood sentinel beside the gargantuan doors that guarded its entrance. They greeted Miranda excitedly, happy to see her. One hard look from Eiko set them back to their positions, chastising them for stepping away from their duties, even if for only a moment. 

The building was an incredible structure, wrought entirely from marble. To step into its depths was to subject yourself to an atmosphere that was several degrees cooler than the one outside. Names lined the walls, marking centuries of various lineage. Miranda reached out to touch one. 

_“Wife and mother. Remembered always, loved eternally.” ___

__

__So many lives reduced to no more than two or three sentences. So much is strived for in the finite span of a single human life, but in the end, so few things are found noteworthy._ _

__

__“Miranda?”_ _

__

__Eiko and Areia stood at the other end of the grand hall. Eiko held open a panel in the wall, and Areia had begun to step through and descend into the darkness below._ _

__

__“I’m coming.”_ _

__The panel revealed a stairway hewn roughly from the stone that lay beneath the surface of the mausoleum. Eiko reached out to touch the damp surface of the stone wall. Her eyes began to glow an unnatural shade of blue, her mouth moving in words that Miranda could not hear. The wall began to reflect that same unearthly blue. A line of it striking up like a match and lending a guideline to their descent below the building._ _

__Miranda shivered, hugging herself against the rising cold as they moved down the steps. “I always underestimate the temperature of this place.”_ _

__“We end up quite far underground, Mor. You should be used to this by now,” Areia chuckled._ _

__“I am fated to always be a fool unfortunately. Why else do you think I keep such diligent Watchmen under my employ?”_ _

__Eiko and Areia exchanged humored glances._ _

__The stairway spiraled down, down, down. When it felt as though they could not possibly go any farther without striking the molten center of the earth, the stair fell into a grand cavern. The trail of light that had lit their path branched away from the entrance to the stairway to crawl upwards like branches above them, casting everything in a cool, blue filter._ _

__At the center of the grandiose space, was a pentagram. The circle of stone around its perimeter rose above the rest of the floor like an altar in a church. Miranda moved away from the other girls and approached it._ _

__The blood in her veins sang at the close proximity to a structure of her own making. The part of herself that she kept buried from so many roared to the surface. Miranda let out a breath, and stepped up onto pentagram._ _

__The circular, star shapes pattern had been carved into the stone as perfectly as though it were made from butter. Every line was smooth with intent, dug deep by purpose. It was powerful magic. The strongest Miranda had ever encountered or even wielded in her life. But it lay dormant now, beneath her feet. Each point of the star was empty of its intended icons. Without the proper ingredients, it was not more than a painter’s canvas lacking its color. And Miranda more than anything intended to keep it that way._ _

__“You see,” Eiko said, approaching the edge of the raised platform. “Nothing is a miss.”_ _

__Miranda turned to each point of the pentagram. Below the platform, on the dark, smooth surface of the cavern floor were five veins of white. They stretched like lightning through a night sky until they reached an individual tip of the star. Miranda closed her eyes. She stood at the point of convergence of five ley lines. Nowhere else in the world did not so many energy paths cross at once. It had been why she had chosen this place. Even now, she could feel the sharp bite of its power. Her skin felt tight with it, her body answering the call of an intangible force. How badly Miranda wished to dip her fingers in it, to embrace something she has been setting aside for so long in an effort of secrecy._ _

__But as Eiko said, the energy flow was as smooth and as full as it always was. There was no pulse of spell work. No divergence of power to an interdimensional doorway. Nothing whispered of the event that Miranda feared might be looming in their future._ _

__“The happenings have been small.” Miranda said, moving to stand at the edge of the platform and looking down at Eiko. “I worry that they would not be felt unless you are in contact with the lines at the moment of the power divergence.”_ _

__“We can set up an around the clock surveillance of the lines if you feel it is necessary, Mortekaia.”_ _

__“Please,” Miranda closed her eyes. “Please do not call me that. I have told you all so many times.”_ _

__“We can call a frog a rabbit. But no matter how much we call it such, it will never be pleasant to pet,” Areia said._ _

__Miranda rolled her eyes. “That is a terrible metaphor.”_ _

__“While you may be attempting to delay what you are to become,” Eiko said, resting a hand on her hip. “It will not change your lineage. And we will address you by your proper name. Not the one you have chosen for this generation.”_ _

__“You know it is not truly my name.” Miranda said, stepping down from the platform. “It was given to me in fear of what I am capable of.”_ _

__“That is the thing about names, Mor.” Areia said. “We rarely have the opportunity to give them to ourselves.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am curious to see if anyone guesses what Miranda is a rough adaptation of before it is revealed in the story. :)


	10. The Small Hours

Miranda was staring down the small hours of the morning when she finally pushed open the front door of the Avengers compound. The front hall was quiet and perfectly still. She leaned her head back against the door and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to shake off the ominous feeling that had settled in her bones. It was everywhere. It felt like an ever present warning. Something was coming.

A clang sounded at the end of the hall. Miranda opened one eye. Dim light pressed outward from a door far down from her. Sliding her hands in her pockets, Miranda meandered towards it. The sound had come from the kitchen. Someone else was up.

It was Bucky.

It did not really surprise her to see him. He often slipped through the same shadows she did, passing without a word. Letting out a slow breath, Miranda pressed herself against the door frame, chewing absently on her thumb nail.

He looked particularly drawn tonight. The dark circles under his eyes showed just how much he felt of the lingering effects from the few moments of the tactile possession.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Miranda asked wryly.

He looked up at her from where he stood at the island, jar of peanut butter in his hand. The pendants lights that had been hung over the island had been selected for their desirable appearance and not their function. The dim light they cast down on the man was nearly reprehensible and Miranda would have declared them entirely abominable if it were not for how the thick length of his eyelashes cast a perfect shadow over his cheekbones.

“So you have returned from your nightly conquest? Shouldn’t you be showing some semblance of shame?” 

His tone was knife sharp, but Miranda was quick to dodge its blade. “Are you insinuating that I have been out all night whoring about?”

“I never once uttered the words.”

“Ah, but I think you did. Just not out loud.” She had no idea what it was about him that always convinced her to never let anything be. She ran a finger over the cool marble countertop. “It doesn’t hurt to let loose and have a little fun now and again, darling.”

“I’ve no care to…” His voice trailed off and she swore a blush reddened his collar. “With someone I have never met.”

“Sex.” Miranda leaned her elbows on the counter, flashing him a coy grin. “It’s alright. You can say the word. I’m not a delicate flower.”

Bucky slammed his knife down onto the table. Metal fingers glinting as they spread across the countertop. “You have never once given any insinuation that you could possibly be any sort of a lady.”

“My,” Miranda leaned back slowly. “What pleasant company we are tonight.”

“I’m…” He stopped short, almost as though he were going to apologize but changed his mind in the end. “I’m a bit on edge.”

“It’s just the jitters. Give it till morning. It will pass.”

“You’ve no idea what it is,” He snarled.

Miranda’s smile lessened slightly, weighted by sadness. “What did it show you?”

He looked up at her. Surprise widened his eyes. “What?”

“The demon. When it took hold of your mind? What did you see?”

Blue eyes narrowed on her. “You know what that thing was?”

“It was a Karryer demon. They manifest in the presence of fear. They draw it to the surface and use it against you.”

Bucky looked down at his hands, his metal fingers flexing. “I relived it, over and over. All the pain. The cold. The...the operation.”

“It always feels real.”

“More than real. It was worse.”

“You must remember, it was just a memory. You survived it. You are here. You are safe.”

“You are safe…” He murmured, easing himself down on the stool beside hers. “How do you know about this...demon?”

“I spent some time in New Mexico at a SHIELD base in Albuquerque. While I was stationed there, some odd things started being reported in town. Impossible things. It turned out to be some kids messing around with black magic. They conjured up one of those wretched things.”

Bucky was quiet. His sandwich before him, uneaten. 

“Karryer demons are lesser demons, incredibly weak in comparison to most. But that allows them to slip through even the smallest of cracks in the wall that divides our realm from theirs.” Miranda pulled at a fray in the edge of the wrapping around her forearm. Stop talking, she told herself. 

“I still have nightmares.”

Miranda stilled, scarcely breathing, as though even simply the sound of the air in her lungs might frighten the confession from his lips. Her voice was as soft as she could manage when she finally spoke, knowing they were treading on the thinnest of ice. “About what happened to you?” 

“About what I’ve done.”

She nodded slowly, understanding. “We have all done things we regret. Things we have to learn to live with.”

He looked at her then, surprise lifting his features. He had expected another response. One she imagined he had heard hundreds of times. That wasn’t you. It’s not your fault. You are what they made you to be. But those sentiments were always so foolish. They were made by people who would never understand what it was like to be a passenger in your own body. Who had never experienced what it felt to be unmade. 

“What have you learned to live with?” His voice was heavy with emotion. She fought the shiver that was making its best attempt to crawl up her spine.

A slight smile tilted her lips. As he often did, he could see what so many others overlooked. “Now now, soldier. We all deserve to have our secrets.”

He smiled at her then. A small smile, but it lifted the shadows over his features. “How is your arm?”

“I’ve been told I should live. Though it was touch and go for a while.” She beamed back at him, reveling in her sarcasm. 

“They fast tracked your uniform. After your injury.” He said, finally biting into his sandwich.

“It was hardly an injury.” She laughed, placing a hand over the bandage. She didn’t dare remove it now. Not with another present.

“Be that as it may,” he said. “I have been informed that we should expect its arrival in the next week or so.”

“Ah. So then I will officially be a part of your circus.”

“You were a part of our circus the second you set foot through that door.”


	11. One of Us

Miranda’s outraged howl sprang from the walls of the training room as she hit the mats again. She slapped a hand down on the mat before rolling back onto her shoulders and snapping up onto her feet. “I do not understand how you manage that. Every. Single. Time.”

“It’s all in the hips,” he laughed. When she quirked a brow at him, he blushed. “It’s-er-stop that. You have to have yourself very steadily planted.”

“Ah,” she smiled. “So the magician reveals his secrets.”

They had been sparring nearly everyday since the demon attack. Sometimes in the dark seclusion of nightfall, and others, as they were now, during the busy hours of the day. The compound was a buzz around them, soldiers passing by the open door as they came and went from briefings. Sometimes, they would stop to watch them.

“But, as much as I enjoy kicking your ass.” She jabbed a finger at Bucky when he made a sound of protest. “I have a one o’clock appointment. And I have the feeling that they wouldn’t appreciate this look from me.”

“It’s a fitting. They don’t care what you show up in.” Bucky pointed out, scrubbing a towel over his face.

“Costume fitting,” Miranda joked, snagging her shirt off the floor where she had flung it and pulling it down over her sweat soaked sports bra.

“Just hope you like it. ‘Cause you’re gonna be stuck in it for the foreseeable future.”

“You really know how to make a girl excited, Barnes.” 

The smile he flung at her caught her breath. A true smile. So few and far between. Miranda ran a hand through her hair, her fingers snagging in tangles. “Hey, so, uh, I was-”

“No shit!” 

Bucky’s gaze was so entirely focused on Miranda that it took her a moment to look away from him and toward the voice that bellowed from the door. She blinked, taking her in.

“Shuri?”

“Yo! Seriously, when I saw your name come through my lab, I was like ‘No way.’ Girl. You’ve made it to the big leagues with the rest of us.”

Miranda shook her head, letting the other girl hug her tightly. “God. So you are the engineer they have working on my costume.”

Shuri pulled back, holding Miranda at arms length. “Do not call it ‘a costume.’”

“It’s a uniform,” Bucky smirked, absently twisting his towel in his hands.

Shuri looked back over her shoulder. Her hands released Miranda when it registered who else was in the room. “White Wolf. It’s been a minute.”

They exchanged an odd little hand shake that cracked a smile on Bucky’s lips.

“So does this mean I don’t have time for a shower?”

“Is this appropriate?” Miranda asked jokingly as she stood before the mirror in a long sleeved bodysuit that was far more sheer material than solid. The cuts were surprisingly flattering but bordered on the edge of risqué.

“It’s a base layer.” Shuri chided. “It will keep you cool during this heat. Here put these on.”

The pants she handed to Miranda were a perfect combination of leather and stretch. Angled stitching worked effortlessly to not only flatter but reinforce the area over her knees and the sides of thighs. 

“Belt.” Shuri said absently, holding out a long strip of leather as she dug through her bags. “Here. These too.” 

Shuri helped her to thread both the belt through the pant loops as well as the slots on several utilitarian pockets, sheaths and munitions containers. 

“A utility belt. It feels very... Batman.”

“But cooler.”

Next was a more structured shirt that tread the line between shirt and jacket to layer over the bodysuit. The lines of it were clean, almost what could be considered futuristic. Very much in line with the clothing Miranda had seen made popular in Wakanda. 

“Gloves. Holster. Sheaths. I know how you like to carry enough hidden weaponry to arm a small armada.”

Miranda laughed buckling on the items handed to her at her waist, thighs, and forearms.

“These are for here,” Shuri said, grasping the gauntlet Miranda had just buckled into place over her forearm. She held several small, black and silver throwing knives. “Both protective and deadly.”

Miranda turned one of the small blades over in her hand appreciatively. They were perfectly balanced and very, very sharp. 

“And this. Entirely without any true tactical function, but I simply could not resist. Your wardrobe has always been dramatic as shit.” Shuri settled a hooded cowl over her shoulders and buckled it into place. “It’s really more for effect than function.” She shrugged, smirking. 

The dark shadow cast over her features by the hood paired with the sharp, modern lines of the uniforms design gave her an anonymous yet undeniably deadly appearance. 

“It’s more flattering than I imagined it would be.” 

“What is form without function. Personally I feel like if someone is going to get their ass beat by a woman, they should know it’s a woman.”

Miranda scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I am no Black Widow. I could never figure out how she kept such a narrow waist.”

“No, you are not a traditional beauty, but there is a certain grace to a strong woman. And girl, you are fit. Okoye would beat your ass for thinking any less of yourself for being strong.”

“How is she doing?”

“She’s buried herself in her work. She’s been trying to draw in more recruits.”

“Tell her next time I’m in town she owes me a few rounds on the mats.”

“Well damn. You are officially one of us aren’t you?”

Miranda couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her lips at the sound of that familiar voice. “No. Way.”

Daisy Johnson stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She held a folder against her chest, beaming at Miranda. “Damn girl. You look badass.”

“It’s all in the design,” Miranda shrugged a shoulder and looked back at the mirrors that surrounded herself. Though she did have to admit, it did look good on her.

“Here,” Shuri said, “Before you guys start talking shop, put these boots on.”  
The boots were tall. At the very least, knee high. The toes and heels were capped with metal, and laces zig zagged their way up the front. Miranda eyed them warily. 

“They zip up the back. Damn. Just take them.”

Daisy laughed. Shaking her head, Miranda did as she was told. They really did complete the look.

“The leather should be decently soft, but they still might take a little breaking in before they are truly comfortable. The thick soles should be puncture resistant, and tread should offer you the best traction I can offer in variable conditions.”

“They are great, Shuri. Thank you. Everything fits great. And Daisy, I thought you were out somewhere in the far reaches of space causing mischief?”

“We were called back. Sousa and I were asked to consult on a couple murders.”

Miranda nodded. She had guessed that had been the case, though she had not thought Daisy would be one of the sources they had reached out to. It had been a few years since she had crossed paths with the girl. The last time they had shared each other’s company, they had gotten very, very drunk together.

“I’m assuming that’s the case file you have there?” Miranda asked.

Shuri glanced at Miranda then sidled closer to Daisy as she opened the file. Shuri turned over a few pages in the report, grimacing as she lifted a photo from the file.

“It’s not really a language that I recognize.” Daisy said, handing another photo to Shuri. “I keep thinking that I see a symbol here or there that I recognize, but when I cross reference it, its not the same. Similar. But not what I thought it was.”

“Dr. Strange said something along the same lines.”

A wicked smile crossed Daisy’s face. “You got to talk to the wizard? Sweet. I’ve always wanted to meet him. See all that magical stuff in person.”

Miranda shrugged, “He wasn’t all that special.”

Shuri pulled a page of printed type from the file. “You didn’t tell me this was the case you have been working on, Miranda.”

“It’s been a curious investigation at this point. They haven’t asked up to take point on the investigation or anything. We have just followed up on a few of our own leads.”

“I can run these through my system back home.” Shuri said, taking the folder from Daisy. “I can see if I get any hits.”

“I think that would be a good idea. Whatever we are dealing with here,” Daisy tucked a wavy lock of dark hair behind her ear. “It’s nothing I have encountered so far. Demons. Pentagrams. It’s like something out of a horror movie.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t enjoy horror movies,” Miranda sighed, hands on her hips. “My life is enough of a horror show as it is.”

“Speaking of horror shows,” Daisy quirked a brow. “You owe me some payback for the last time we crossed paths.”

“Are you saying you want to get me drunk, Agent Johnson?”

“Oh, I very much want to get you drunk. It’s unfair that I was the only one made a fool last time.”

Shuri laughed, “Now this, I have got to see.”


	12. Girls Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have been excited for this chapter since I started writing this story. :D
> 
> I will say that I listened to the song "Feel Good" by Illenium on repeat while I wrote the dance scene. Feel free to listen to it while you read if you like that kind of music!

Bucky took a sip of his drink, ice bumping his lip, and grimaced. Sam was hell bent on getting his super soldier companion drunk despite his heightened metabolism. The drink currently in his possession held very little flavor and burned its path down the entirety of his throat. 

Music thumped a deep bass at his back, audibly shaking the glass of the doors to the balcony he had retreated to. He had been no stranger to night clubs in his day, but they were a far cry to what he had experienced in the twenty-first century. He leaned his elbows on the balcony railing, looking out over the city before him. Faintly he could hear the sound of traffic far below him. 

A low groan made its way to him from the dark corner he had been working hard to ignore. No doubt something unsavory was occurring there. This had not been how he had pictured spending his Saturday night. Dressed in clothing that while he had to admit, fit him nicely, were not his and left him feeling uncomfortable in his own skin. This was not him. These sleek lines and stylish shoes. 

He turned from the city and back to the strobing lights of the night club. His eyes found Sam first. He was standing over a cocktail table, talking closely with a blonde woman Bucky didn’t recognize, his hand dangerously low on the small of her back. The girl laughed, her hand smacking his chest playfully then lingering there. 

Bucky rolled his eyes, looking away. Nearly half an hour ago he had slipped from his friend’s side as he had distinctly felt like a third wheel as Sam had worked to ensure the attention of a brunette. 

He found Miranda next. She was leaning back against the bar, a tall glass in her hand, its contents little more than ice. The same fluttery feeling overcame him now that had surfaced when she had strode into the common room hours before to join their small party before they had embarked into the night. 

Her hair was taller and fuller than usual, accentuating the sharp line of her jaw, her defined cheekbones, and her razor sharp smile. She wrote a black jumpsuit that fit her upper body like a glove then flowed out into smooth pant legs. Their hard pressed crease drew a long line down her legs to the floor. The neckline was asymmetrical. One arm captured in a sleeve, the other free to display the harsh lines of her tattoo. It curled over her collarbone, flicked at the curve of her neck then curled down to the back of her palm. 

She shifted slightly as through she could feel his eyes on her, and then her silver gaze slipped to him. She had known exactly where he had escaped to. Several people sifted through their eye line, many of the young men slowing to take her in, but her gaze never broke from his. Finally, she set down her drink, pushed off the bar, and strode toward him. 

Daisy Johnson emerged from the sea of bodies at the center of the nightclub to reach for her. Behind her Daniel Sousa swayed, looking abandoned and entirely uncomfortable without his modern day guide beside him. Bucky and Sousa had exchanged skeptical glances when the door to the club had been thrust open and the music had burst out to meet them. This was not a night life either men were familiar with. 

He watched as Miranda laughed and extricated herself from Daisy’s boisterous grip. Miranda glanced back over her shoulder, flipping a very unladylike gesture toward the other girl’s dramatized pout. Bucky smiled, taking another sip of his drink. He coughed, pressing a hand to his chest as he swallowed. God. What was this stuff? Starter fluid?

“You could at least try to look like you are having fun.” She said as she stepped out into the balcony.

“Maybe.” He shrugged a shoulder, hiding his smirk behind the rim of his glass as he took another drink. Really. Someone should just take this good awful thing out of his hand. 

“You will disappoint Sam. He was very excited that you agreed to come. He was determined to act as wingman.”

Bucky’s eyes moved to Sam. He was back to the leggy brunette he had started the night with. Her dark skin was a lovely contrast to the white dress she wore. “I’m not sure he’s meant for wingman duties.”

“Nah. You’d do just fine on your own if you actually wanted the attention.”

Bucky scoffed. “They’d take one look at this arm and run for the hills.”

“James...” Miranda sighed, rolling her eyes. 

He took in a slow breath, his skin tingling. The way she said his name... His God given name. 

“Miranda...” He said, mimicking her tone. 

“There are plenty of girls here looking to conquer your particular mountain.”

“Is that the kind of euphemisms kids use these days?”

She laughed, her cheeks fever bright in the moonlight. He was treading in dangerous water. 

“For example.” Miranda nodded towards the interior of the club. “Exhibit A: Busty Blonde out on the dance floor. She looks at you every two minutes. Just to see if you’ve given up sulking on the balcony.”

“I’m not sulking,” he countered. 

But sure enough when he followed the direction of her gesture, he caught sight of a petite blonde on the edge of the crowd. Her arms were up, her body twisting and turning to the beat of the music. She wore a metallic gold dress that caught the light like a beacon on midnight seas. The neckline plunged low between her ample breasts. 

“And,” Miranda drew out the word for a few moments “Cue the lustful stare.”

And as if the girl had heard her words, her eyes looked to Bucky. When she realized that he stared back, her cheeks blushed red and she turned away from him. 

Bucky cringed and Miranda laughed, throwing her head back. “You could at least go say hi.”

“I’m not the kind of man she’s looking for.”

“You could have been.”

He glanced over at her, brow raised in question.

“There are thousands of versions of yourself that you could have been.”

When he did not speak she continued. “There are millions of moments that make you who you are because of the decisions that you did or didn’t make. They all led you here. To this moment. To who you are right now. But you could become someone else entirely tomorrow. That’s the thing about a moment. In that second, it’s just a drop in the bucket. Sometimes it’s hard to imagine the ripples that will follow.”

“You sound like Strange. Talking fate and shit.”

“Oh no. I don’t believe in fate. I refuse to. Every decision you make alters the path of your future. You can be anyone you want. You just have to decide to be.”

Bucky took another sip of his drink. “You really want me to go say hello to her that badly?”

She grinned a cheshire grin, glancing sideways at him. “Come on, Barnes. Live a little. Besides, when was the last time you got laid?”

He nearly choked. “How much have you had to drink?”

She laughed again, loud and boisterous. “Man, if sobriety was a line in the sand, I would be miles from the beach.”

He shook his head at her, chuckling softly.

“Seriously though. You aren’t even dancing. Go dance with her! We both know she wouldn’t turn you down.”

“I have no interest in dancing with strangers.” 

The man who would have approached a pretty girl from across the dance floor, all suave and cavalier, had died long ago in that icy canyon. 

“Then dance with me.”

Maybe it was all the shots Sam had been funnel feeding him since they had arrived, or maybe it was the challenge in her devilish smile, but against all his better judgement, he took hold of her outstretched hand.

She led him out to the center of the dance floor. He stood awkwardly, unsure he felt comfortable with how the people around them pressed in, filling in the path they had forged.

He watched as Miranda began to move, her body shifting and swaying in an undeniably pleasant way. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Her eyes closed as she continued to dance. “Do you not know how to dance?”

“I know how to dance. I don’t think this is dancing.”

She laughed, lightly settling her arm over his shoulder. “Just move with the music. Whatever feels right. There are dozens of people around us, but none of them are watching.”

And she was right. Every person around them was engrossed in their partner, paying no attention to the uncomfortable super soldier. He tried to do as she said, but it felt wrong, and he stopped immediately.

She laughed.

“See. I looked stupid. I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

“No. You were fine. But you are cute when you’re flustered.”

He hoped the darkness of the dance floor hid the bloom of red across his face. Miranda turned away from him then moved in close, reaching back to grasp his hips. 

“Just...let the music take you. Don’t think so much.”

It was hard to think of much of anything over her close proximity. He could smell the sweet scent of her shampoo. The entirety of his nervous system of zeroed in on the pressure of her fingers against his hip bones. And then he was moving, shifting and rocking and rising with her, with the music. This felt right. This had to be what she had tried to explain to him, to show him. Her body pressed farther back against his, and he let out a shuddering breath.

There, in the middle of the dance floor, with the heat of hundreds of bodies pressing in, the bass of the music threatening to synthesize his soul, he felt entirely intoxicated. The languid feel of her body moving against his set every nerve in his body aflame. The world was an oil spill, and she was a match poised to drop.

One hand clung to his thigh, while the other slipped up her body to cup the back of his neck, her finger tips leaving a tingling trail in their wake.

“Fuck.” He breathed a shaky breath against her collarbone as her head shifted to the side. His lips hovered inches from the curve of her throat. He trailed his fingers up the back of her raised arm. He let himself, for just a moment, explore the feel of her. The touch of his metal fingers was feather light. He watched as goosebumps raised on her skin in the flash of neon lights.

The beat of the music dropped and swelled, taking his heartbeat with it. Something burned low in his core. An ache he had not endured in a very long time. The hand on his thigh slipped upward, her slender fingers lifting the hem of his shirt ever so slightly. The muscles there contracted under her touch, and his breath hitched. He felt like he might combust, then and there. In the middle of the dance floor. At the end of her fingertips. 

And then her fingers were in his hair. She twisted in his arms until she faced him, her lips a breath’s length from his. They swayed, hip bone bumping hip bone, moved by the writhing tide of bodies pressing in around them. A sea of desire threatening to pull them under. 

She looked up at him through dark lashes. His hand cupped her bare shoulder blade, the feel of her damp skin, the hard muscle there, sent a delicious thrill through his body. The beat dropped hard, the lights spiralling down. The bass so intense the speakers felt as though they might burst apart and every atom of his body with them.

And then, they were kissing.

Her fingers were in his hair, her nails slipping over his scalp. He shuddered at the sensation, drawing her close, dipping deeper into the taste of her. She yielded easily to the pressure of his mouth, far more malleable than he had ever imagined she would be. Had he imagined this? Imagined how the taste of her would burn like brandy. How her fingers would blaze like fire against his skin.

She tugged lightly on his hair as they parted, breathless, her teeth grazing over his lower lip. “Were there girls like me in that world you came from?”

He lowered his mouth until he hovered just above hers, then hesitated. If he submerged himself in her again, he feared he might never surface. He felt the rumble of a sound in her chest as she stretched upward towards him. 

“There are no girls like you.”


	13. Daddy Says Hello

Miranda clutched the sides of the sink, the porcelain cool against her skin. She let out a shaky breath, pressing her forehead against the bathroom mirror. Music thumped absently from the club, reminding her of what lay waiting for her outside the sanctuary of the small room.

“What the hell are you doing?” She whispered, closing her eyes. “This is not you. You do not touch emotions with a ten foot stick. That is your sister’s thing.”

Goosebumps rose on her skin as she remembered the feel of his fingers on her arms, her back. Her grip tightened, her knuckles white. “You know why you told yourself _‘No attachments.’ _You know what’s coming.”__

____

For a long time she just remained like that, forehead against the glass, gripping the sink as though it were her only life lifeline. If she did not leave, she did not have to face the consequences of her mistake. She did not have to face those blue eyes. That smile. That mouth...

____

“You are stronger than this…” She reprimanded herself. “You quit smoking god damn it.”

____

“No you’re not.” 

____

Miranda pulled back, blinking into the mirror’s reflection. A woman stood behind her. She was petite, her dark features tainted by bitter hatred. “You’ve always been weak.”

____

Slowly, Miranda turned. She thought of the knife strapped to her calf, of the quickest way to get it from there to her hand. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

____

“Don’t think I don’t know how you’ve been played like a puppet. Letting our sister pull your strings.”

____

Miranda took an uneasy step back, putting a hand out to steady herself. “You...I don’t understand how you are getting through. After everything I did...”

____

“I’m not through yet. But, oh, I am so close.” The woman’s smile was wicked. 

____

Already, Miranda could see the small star bursts of red in her sclera, the sheen of sweat on her skin. This kind of complete possession would drain the host in a matter of hours.

____

“And when I get through-”

____

“When?” Miranda snarled, “Don’t you mean ‘if.’”

____

“It’s not a matter of if, darling sister.” The woman stepped closer. Miranda could feel panic gripping her, her heart pounding wildly in her ears. She took a shaky breath, attempting to get a grip on herself. The only extraordinary thing about this woman was the entity possessing her. She was only inches from her now. She was nearly a foot shorter than Miranda, but it did not seem to deter her. “But when. And when I do I’ll be coming for you.” 

____

Smiling, the woman stepped back. With a small wave, she turned from Miranda and moved towards the door. Rooted to her spot, Miranda could do nothing but watch her leave.

____

The girl paused, glancing back over her shoulder. “Oh. And daddy says hello.”

____

A rage so total and complete overcame her at those words. The world was a wash with red. A force welled inside her that she had not laid claim to in a very long time. It sparked a heat in her lungs and swelled out from her center to capture her limbs, setting her fingers to pins and needles. 

____

The woman screamed as she was flung backwards. Little more than a rag doll in a wild child’s hands. Her fingers clawed at her throat as an invisible force held her against the wall, her feet searching for a ground that was nowhere to be found. Miranda approached her, arm still raised, fingers mimicking the force that held the woman there. 

____

Miranda bared her teeth. “You can tell father that I will never undo what I have done. And you know very well that you are not strong enough to do it yourself.”

____

“I don’t need to do it. Because you will do it for me.” She rasped, her lips turning blue. “I just need you in a little different mindset.”

____

With a snarl, Miranda closed her fist. The woman made a small, strangled sound. It was barely audible over the snap of bones and cartilage. Miranda let her fingers loosen, her hand falling back to her side. The woman’s body collapsed to the floor. Miranda gasped in one breath, then another. She raked her hair back from her face, pulling at it.

____

“My god. What have I done?” 

____

The music cut off suddenly from the other side of the door. All at once, two things consumed the stark silence. Miranda’s cell phone began to ring. And someone started screaming. Multiple someones.

____

Miranda shoved open the door to the bathroom, plunging herself into the chaos of the club. Two women knocked her shoulder as they scrambled past, sobbing. One of them clutched the side of her face, blood welling between her fingers.

____

The monitor on her phone read “Eiko.” 

____

“So we have a bit of a problem.” Eiko said, she sounded a bit breathless.

____

“No shit.” Miranda growled.

____

The main space of the clubhouse was in shambles. Tables were overturned. Bodies lay on the floor, their blood streaking the tile. Something howled. The sound rose every hair on Miranda’s body. Fear welled, striking in her the primal instinct to run. To be away from this thing. To put as much space between herself and a creature that had haunted humanity since the dawn of time.

____

“What’s going on?” Eiko asked.

____

“They are here. I think they are coming after me.” Miranda said.

____

“We can spare a few girls. We just about have the portal up and running.”

____

“No!” Miranda slapped her hand against the hall wall. “No. You shut that thing down. Under absolutely no circumstances will you power that thing up. Not until you get the okay from me. Do you understand me?”

____

“Mor. It’s not interdimensional. She can’t hijack it.”

____

“I don’t care. Nothing about any of this feels right. Now shut it down. I’ll handle the situation here. You find that crack in the Divide and you seal it shut. I don’t care if you have to use the fucking baby Jesus himself to do it!”

____

“Of course. Right away.” And then the line was dead.

____

Miranda pressed the heel of her palm against her temple, her hand shaking so hard she nearly lost the grip on her phone. Someone was shouting. Sam?

____

“Get out of here! Go!” He commanded. She could see him across the dance floor, ducked low, guiding two women behind the protection of a booth and out into the hall beyond.

____

“Don’t let them touch you!” Bucky bellowed. “You can only do damage when they are solid. Don’t waste your energy if you can see through them.

____

The ground vibrated beneath her feet. Daisy stepped into view, pure determination on her face. Daniel Sousa moved at her back, gun raised. Miranda almost laughed at the uselessness of the weapon. But he wouldn’t know any better.

____

Daisy raised up her hands and the vibrations strengthened. “Let’s see what they think of this.”

____

One of the shadows sifted and twisted, moving towards her in a terribly unnatural stop start of motion. The concentration of vibration hit the monster square on. It screamed and then burst apart, dissipating like smoke in the night.

____

Bucky appeared beside Daisy. “Well that’s a neat trick.” Even from across the room, his smile seeded butterflies in her stomach.

____

“Get a grip,” Miranda snarled, jerking up her pant leg and grasping the hilt of the knife hidden there. Light flashed off the jagged blade. 

____

Taking one last centering breath, she dashed out into the fray. She tried not to focus on the small amount of relief she saw in Bucky’s face when she stepped out onto the dance floor. 

____

“It’s not gone.” Miranda said before turning on the dark that surrounded them. “Come on! Do what you came here to do!”

____

Something rumbled low, the feel of it rising from the floor and into their feet. She turned as a rippling black mass erupted from the dark overhang of the VIP lounges. She brought her arms up in time to block its first blow, but the second landed squarely on her ribs. She twisted, fingers grasping for purchase on anything tangible, and pitched the creature behind her. It twisted like a cat trying to right itself, but Bucky was on it before it had a chance to regain its ground. The room exploded into motion. Daisy and Sousa rushed forward as the creature threw Bucky off like he was little more than a fly to a horse. Daisy raised her hands.

____

“Don’t!” Miranda called. “You will just dissipate it again.”

____

It roared at them, savage and raw. Miranda took that moment of distraction to fling her knife as hard as she could muster. It buried itself in the back creature’s head. What should be its head? It staggered a step then crumbled forward, its body bursting apart as it hit the ground. The knife skittered across the floor away from them and into the dark. Miranda surged forward in search of it. 

____

“Maybe they left?” Sam asked.

____

“No. They are still here.” Miranda breathed. She could feel their presence. Feel it in the tingling sensation threatening to over take her arm. In the way her hair raised on her skin, knowing she was being watched. 

____

“There should be two left.” Daisy said. Her eyes were on Sousa, watching him as he approached the hall that led toward the exit. His gun was raised, eyes narrow. “What do you see?”

____

A light at the end of the hall flickered. Then another. They winked in and out, a random, disorienting pattern. Bucky moved forward, flanking his fellow man out of time. Then the lights burst apart, sinking the hall into darkness, leaving only the sound of glass showering the floor as the only evidence that a world still existed in the darkness. 

____

An energy blast shot forward from the hall. Its line of fire lit its path down the hall, revealing inky, spiderous shapes clinging to the walls and ceiling of the hallway. For just a moment they caught the shape of a tall, slim figure. Shuri.

____

Bucky and Sousa dropped to the floor, narrowly avoiding the strike of the blast. Shuri struck again and again towards the shapes on the ceiling, screaming her frustrations as she missed again and again. The creatures burst apart into hundreds of small writhing, skittering shapes that scrabbled down the walls and towards the center of the dance floor where Miranda stood. Bucky and Sousa pulled back, desperately trying to avoid the touch of the small shapes. 

____

Daisy scattered them, hitting them again and again with vibrations. But they moved like water, welling back into the vacated area the second that the vibrations stopped. And then Miranda was surrounded by hundreds of ink black insects. Miranda’s fingers were open wide at her sides. The creatures formed a perfect circle around her, screeching their anger at the invisible barrier they met. They crawled and tumbled over each other, rising up and up in an attempt to reach its top.

____

She heard Bucky calling her name. Sam swore, frustration clear in his voice. But Miranda steadied her breath, focused on the integrity of the barrier around her. She just had to hold out until they realized they couldn’t reach her. 

____

Like a changing tide, their tactic shifted. They drew back from her, leaving the perimeter of the barrier. They tumbled and climbed and crawled until they rose up into a singular solid shape. Miranda took an unsteady step back, catching her breath. But before she could regroup, the creature began to scream. It clawed at its back, twisting and trembling before bursting apart.

____

Her knife fell to the floor, its jagged blade glinting in what little light remained. Dark swirls embellished its surface. Behind where the monster had stood was Bucky, body still poised in the follow through of its throw.

____

“Okay.” Daisy said, taking an unsure step toward Sousa. “What the hell was that?”

____

Miranda surged forward, scooping the knife up off the ground and tucking it back into the sheath at her calf. 

____

“Seriously. Like, you are telling me that horror show’s greatest weakest is a knife?” Sam asked, running a hand down the front of his dirt smeared shirt.

____

Miranda shrugged a shoulder, forcing any unease out of her voice. “No one ever said it needed to be complicated.”

____

Bucky’s eyes were on her. They had the same expression they had so many times before. When she would ask a question that seemed just a little too close to the truth. When she had stopped his metal hand mid swing. When he had found her alive and mostly unharmed after a fall through a second floor window. But this time, she could tell that he did not intend to stay quiet.

____

Several people dressed in black tactical gear surged into the room at once. The quiet dissolved into shouts. Assault rifles were raised, muzzles trained on them. Miranda stared down the line of the barrel closest to her, leveling the man with a stare that contained every ounce of anger and irritation in her body. He stepped back, suddenly seeming to question his orders..

____

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Sam shouted, his hands going up. “We are friendlies. You hear?”

____

Miranda moved back toward her companions. “So. I suppose SHIELD is going to be upset that this little side show they have been trying to keep under wraps is about to see the light of day?” 

____

“On the ground!” Someone screamed at them.

____

Daisy laughed uneasily. “Yeah. This is going to be all kinds of fun.”

____


	14. Empty Promises

“We apologize for the misunderstanding, miss. But you know how it is. We have to cover all of our bases.”

The officer held out her knife sheath and her cell phone. They had been the only items on her person when they had forced them to the ground and arrested them. Daisy had been livid, threatening an assortment of dismemberment tactics. Sousa, being the good, law abiding citizen he was, had tried to explain to her that they were only trying to do their job. They had no idea who they were or what had happened in the club. But that didn’t stop Miranda from giving the officer a withering glare as she took the items from his hands and turned to leave. 

Miranda switched on her cellphone. Several alerts crowded the screen. Missed calls from Eiko and a single text message that had come in nearly two hours ago.

_The Convergence. Now. ___

__Miranda blew out a breath, unease settling in her stomach as she pushed open the front doors of the police department. Daylight was just beginning to dilute the dark of the night sky with streaks of pinks and yellow. Daisy and Sousa stood at the bottom of the stairs talking with a tall African American man. He was broad and long limbed, and Miranda would recognize him anywhere._ _

__“Eavers.” Director McKenzie called to her. “I’ll admit. I was a bit surprised to get a call from Daisy. I knew she had been called in to consult but I didn’t realize she was in town already.”_ _

__He opened his arm to her and pulled her into a half hearted hug. “But what surprised me more was when she told me that you were a part of the merry miscreants she had coerced into wreaking havoc.”_ _

__“I’m really not sure why.” Daisy smiled, crossing her arms. “We are nothing but trouble when we are together.”_ _

__“Almost more trouble that you are worth,” Mac said, nodding toward an unmarked SUV across the street. “Take that car back to the Avengers compound. We have some things we need to discuss after we have dealt with the PD and misled the press.”_ _

__Daisy nodded. “What about Barnes and Wilson?”_ _

__Miranda glanced up to see Bucky and Sam descending the stairs. Bucky’s eyes were focused on her, dark with intent. She took a steadying breath._ _

__“I actually have a quick errand I need to run.” Miranda said, looking up at Mac._ _

__“At 4 in the morning?”_ _

__“Personal errand?” She offered._ _

__Mac sighed. “Make it quick, and get back to headquarters directly after.”_ _

__“Of course.” Miranda nodded, stepping back and away from them before turning on her heel._ _

__She didn’t make it far before someone caught her arm. Bucky. He jerked her back and she twisted in his grip, breaking his hold._ _

__“You owe me an explanation.”_ _

__“I owe you nothing,” Miranda spat, backing away from him._ _

__“You are involved in this somehow. Aren’t you.?” He asked, following her. One step, then two._ _

__“How can you say that?” She asked, forcing her tone into breathy disbelief._ _

__“It’s the way you react to all of this. None of it surprises you. It has surprised the hell out of the rest of us.”_ _

__Her mind shifted into overdrive, trying to see a way out of this. She couldn’t tell him the truth. Even if she did, he would never believe her. Or he would tell the others. They would try to involve themselves in this. And all they would do was make everything worse. And yet, a little voice in the back of her head whispered, _you know that’s not why you won’t tell him. It’s because if he really knew the truth, if he really knew what you were, what that meant, he would despise you. _____

____So she did the one thing she knew better than breathing. She lied. “I’ve faced these things before... It’s the reason I joined SHIELD. It allowed me resources I would have never had as a civilian. They killed someone very dear to me, and after encountering them again in New Mexico...It festered into a bit of an...obsession.”_ _ _ _

____“But why keep that from us? We are hitting nothing but dead ends here. Every little bit of information helps.”_ _ _ _

____“I spent years feeling like I was insane. Studying witchcraft and black magic. How do you think the police handled it when I told them that demon’s killed my boyfriend? Huh? They laughed in my face.”_ _ _ _

____He stepped closer to her, and she forced herself to stay where she was. It was hard to tell if her body was trying to tell her to step away from him or move closer. His eyes searched her, digging for any sign of deception. She would not give it to him. “You are talking to a man who was born over one hundred years ago. You saw what Daisy can do. We live in a world where anything is possible.”_ _ _ _

____“Old habits die hard?” She offered weakly._ _ _ _

____“You can trust us.”_ _ _ _

____She stepped back, allowing herself a moment to regroup. “I don’t really know much. You said it yourself. Trying to spiral down that rabbit hole leads to nothing but dead ends.”_ _ _ _

____“But if you did know something, something important to this investigation. You would tell us?”_ _ _ _

____His tone was so earnest, his expression so soft and honest that she could feel herself wanting to give in to him. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Eiko. She squared herself, burying any weakness down deep._ _ _ _

____“Of course.”_ _ _ _

____Then she turned from him, the morning light warming her face, and walked away._ _ _ _

____By the time she stepped into the cavern below the mausoleum, she was wound tight as a bowstring. Her sister's words played over and over in her mind._ _ _ _

_____Daddy says hello. ____ _ _ _

______“Finally. Why aren’t you answering your phone? I have been calling for hours.” Eiko demanded_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You look like hell, boss.” Astlyr joked._ _ _ _ _ _

______Miranda didn’t even have it in her to respond with her typical snark. “Did you close it?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yes.” Domini said, hand in her hip, tone sharp. “It is our job after all.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Slowly, Miranda twisted on her heel, the sound of the gravel on the soles of her shoes scraping stone lots in the quiet room. Domini had never liked her. Never appreciated the opportunity that Miranda has given her. Instead, she had always pushed back, questioning her authority. She approached the other girl slowly, not stopping until she stood over her._ _ _ _ _ _

______“No. Your job is to watch the lines. Your jobs are to catch these anomalies before anything comes of them. Those creatures should not have gotten as far as they did.” Domini’s swagger fractured, and Miranda pressed down on the break. “People died tonight, Dom. Because you let those things get that far. You’re responsible that.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Me? Were you not out partying like some frat brat with your little superhero friends? How hypocritical-“_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m not denying fault. Is this not our purpose? To stop this death at his hand? We failed. And we cannot fail again. Don’t forget where I pulled you from. I can just as easily send you back.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______She watched the color drain from Domini’s face. The comment had been harsh, and bared a weight that would haunt the girl for days. But she was tired of this. Of her. So tired…_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Mor…” Eiko’s voice was quiet at her shoulder. “There’s something else.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Miranda sighed, pressing her fingers to her pounding temples. “And here I thought this night could not get any worse.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______They led her through the cavern of the Convergence and into a smaller room that branched off it. Valanna reached out and touched the empty bowl of a sconce on the wall, whispering something the others could not hear. A small blue flame flickered to life, bathing the room in light._ _ _ _ _ _

______A woman sat huddled in the center of the room surrounded by a hastily drawn chalk circle. Messy runes had been scratched into the stone floor. When she saw them approach the woman stood. A horrid red enveloped her pupils, and energy, swirling like smoke around her fingers, burst around her and ricocheted off the warded barrier._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Who is she?” Miranda asked, moving closer._ _ _ _ _ _

______“We don’t know. We found her at the tear in the divide.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“She’s a witch,” Miranda noted wryly as the woman flung energy blast after energy blast at the barrier. It bowed and flexed around her, but it did not break._ _ _ _ _ _

______“She killed two Karryer demons when they tried to come through.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Miranda glanced back at Eiko, brows raised in surprise. “So she’s an ally?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“We don’t know. She wasn’t overly friendly when we arrived.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Miranda huffed a laugh. “Can she hear us?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Eiko glanced back over her shoulder. “Valanna?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______At her name the girl moved forward, scrubbing away one of the runes that encircled the woman._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Can you hear me?” Miranda asked, her voice louder to ensure it’s clarity._ _ _ _ _ _

______The woman didn’t speak. She simply existed amid the red mist emanating from her eyes and hands._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Do you have a name?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Let me out of here before I tear this place down myself.” She snarled. Her voice held the touch of an accent that Miranda couldn’t place._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Wouldn’t you have done that already then, if you could?” Miranda asked, slowly circling her. ”Is there not someone who will be looking for you?””_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Everything I have ever loved has been taken from me.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“If you are looking for sympathy,” Miranda tapped a finger on her crossed arms, “You will find better luck elsewhere. There are no happy childhoods here.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______The woman tilted her head, auburn hair tumbling down one shoulder. “What were those things?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Demons. Sent by my father to kidnap me.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Mortekaia,” Eiko warned, taking a step toward her._ _ _ _ _ _

______Miranda settled her with a low gesture. “She knew what they were. Or she wouldn’t have been at the tear. But what I’m curious about is the ‘why?’ Why were you there?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______She looked down at her hands. A swirl of red encircled the ring finger on her right hand. “I have been having dreams. Terrible dreams.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______The room was quiet around them. Waiting for her to offer more._ _ _ _ _ _

______“When I looked into those...those _demons _, I saw nothing but death. So much death. And when I look at you now, I see the same.”___ _ _ _ _ _

________Miranda’s smile was wicked. “And what? You were going to wage this war alone? A lonely woman’s crusade for death?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I was searching for a purpose.” Her words revealed a weariness that had settled bone deep. “Without that I have nothing.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Miranda and Eiko exchanged a glance. “Now that is something that we do respect around here. So maybe, we won’t kill you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________It was an empty threat, but this woman didn’t need to know that._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I can help you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Miranda’s laugh was without any humor. “No you can’t.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I’m more powerful than-than you think.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Don’t you mean more powerful than me?” Miranda tapped a finger on her breast bone. “Because that’s what you really wanted to say. Right?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Oh, if she could have welded the look she gave Miranda like a weapon, it would have been a dagger to the heart._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“How long, exactly, have you had these abilities, witch? A few years? A decade maybe?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Still she remained silent._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I have been a part of this universe for eons. Your existence is a blink in comparison to mine. I assure you, child. You are not more powerful than me. And if you have even an ounce of self preservation, you will not meddle in my family affairs.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Miranda stepped away from her and turned toward the door._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“You are making a mistake.” The woman called after her as she strode from the room._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Miranda lifted a hand both simultaneously silencing the woman and smothering the flame in a single gesture._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“What do you want me to do with her?” Eiko asked, when they had stepped out from the dark._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Keep her here. As much as I hate to admit, she is powerful. We don’t need her fucking around with something she doesn’t understand.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Eiko sighed, glancing back over Miranda’s shoulder. “Maybe she really will try to help us.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Maybe,” Miranda said, “But don’t let her draw you in with empty promises.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little by little we learn a little more about our leading lady...


	15. Aren't You Tired

“A terrifying attack downtown has left a popular nightclub in ruins with thirteen confirmed deaths at this time.”

Miranda paused, her hand on the door knob, and took a breath, steadying herself. She was the last to join the briefing, and when she pushed open the door, all eyes were on her.

“Unfortunately,” the news reporter continued, glancing down at her notes. “At this time, we have very little information to share as SHIELD has swooped in and taken the scene from local authorities. We were, however, lucky enough to speak with a survivor of the attack.”

Miranda slid down into a chair at the back of the room, away from the others.

“Our witness wished to remain anonymous, but claimed it was like a real life horror movie. ‘We heard screaming and then the lights started going on and off. Every time they went out you could hear something in the dark. Something unnatural.’”

The reporter paused for effect. “It does make this reporter wonder, what is SHIELD hiding from us now?”

Mac switched off the TV, cutting off the insufferable musical outro. “So I now have nearly every government protective agency trying to knock down my door and demand answers. It is only a matter of time before I have to tell them that we have been withholding information about a satanic serial killer. And I don’t think they are going to be particularly unhappy when I tell them we have no solid leads.”

“Well, as much as I enjoy feeling like I am back in elementary school,” Bucky made an open handed gesture. “We do know now what they have been trying to summon with those pentagrams.”

Miranda’s eyes shifted to the super soldier. He had changed since she last saw him, and he looked far more comfortable in his skin.

“Really?” Mac asked. “Please, do share with the class.”

Bucky smiled wryly down at his hands before looking back at Miranda. A brow quirked upwards when he found her looking back. “Yes. Demons.”

“Demons?” Mac asked with a laugh. “Like God’s fallen angels?”

Miranda stared down at the tangle of fingers in her lap, trying to hide the humorless smile that lifted the corners of her mouth. It was an incredulity that she had experienced an innumerable amount of times before.

“Yes. Karryer demons.” He said the word slowly, as though to ensure that he was saying it properly. “Miranda has experienced them before.”

She looked up slowly. All focus had settled on her. “I don’t know much about them. They killed my college boyfriend.”

Daisy’s expression softened. Sorrow? Or was it pity? For a man who had never even existed.

“Were you...playing around with…” Mac asked slowly, clearly unsure what exactly he should be asking, though knowing he should be asking something.

“With pentagrams? Black magic? God, no.” Miranda sat back. “More a tragic matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Is there anything you can share with us?” Mac asked. “Anything at all would be helpful?”

Miranda could feel Bucky’s eyes on her, willing her to speak. “Not really. It was a long time ago.”

“I thought you told me you became obsessed?”

Miranda’s gaze shifted to him, flat and irritated. “And I told you, I came up with nothing but dead ends. I had to give it up. It had negative effects on my mental health.”

Bucky continued to stare at her long after the attention had shifted back to the director.

“Regardless,” Mac said. “That gives us something. One more needle to add to this God damn haystack.”

Miranda slowly closed the door to her room, shutting herself into the darkness there. She rested her forehead against the cool wood.

“I’m not sure what it is about me that makes people think they should be able to take me by surprise.” She flicked on the light, revealing the sorcerer.

Dr. Strange was seated on the bench of the large bay window on the opposite side of the room. “I have a theory.”

“Ya know...I’ve had a day from hell, and I would really, really appreciate it if you would kindly get the _fuck _out of my room.”__

__“Ah, yes. But I think you’d like to hear this theory.”_ _

__“If one more magical being on this damned planet tells me what I am destined to be, I will show you exactly where your destiny ends.”_ _

__He turned something over in his hand. Miranda’s focus shifted, watching it turn over and over in his hands. A book. Small. Blood red. The edges of its pages smudged black._ _

__“The ironic thing is that I had not really meant to grab this book that day. But it was between two volumes that I did want and it just ended up coming along for the ride.” He stood, cradling the book in his scarred fingers, leafing through the pages. “Because this book doesn’t talk about demons, or portals, or pentagrams. It’s not even written in a language I can read. Someone just happened to scribble some footnotes. And even those are written in a dead language. I had no need for it. But then, you took it. Then I became very interested. Did you think I would not notice?”_ _

__She held his gaze, her expression drawn. The weariness of the past twenty-four hours wearing on her._ _

__“I did some research.” He said, “There are many cultures that view death as a woman.”_ _

__Miranda crossed her arms, leaning back against the wall. “So what? You think I’m the grim reaper? Do you hear yourself? How ridiculous that sounds?”_ _

__“Is it?” He asked, drifting towards her. “Death has a connection to you like nothing I have ever seen.”_ _

__“Did you ever think that maybe my life has just been absolute shit?”_ _

__“It’s more than that. I know it.”_ _

__

__“So,” Miranda tapped her fingers in a staccato beat on her forearms. “If I am what you say I am, what stops me from killing you right now?” Her fingers itched for it, to reach out and end this all._ _

__“I’m not sure.” He leaned in, scrutinizing her._ _

__“And what exactly has led you to this hypothesis?” Miranda asked, moving out from between the wall and the magician. “I stole a book? People steal shit all the time. That doesn’t make them death personified.”_ _

__“Aren’t you tired?” He asked, his body rotating to face her. “Of the lies? The deception?”_ _

__“You assume that I have been lying.” Miranda threw herself backwards onto her bed, arms outspread._ _

__“I think,” Dr. Strange came to stand over her. “That there is a lot more to you than meets the eye. And I intend to find out exactly what that might be.”_ _

__When she sat up, he was gone._ _

__She took in a few ragged breaths. Everything was going to hell in a handbasket. How had this happened? How had she lost her grip? Years of preparation and planning, and now this. She looked over at the bedside clock. 8:21am._ _

__“I need a drink...”_ _

__The compound was quiet as she slipped from her room and down the hall towards the kitchen. She had no doubt that her companions were asleep. Miranda herself was running on empty after spending more than the last twenty-four hours awake. But her nerves were entirely shot. Even if she tried, she would never sleep now. Her hands shook as she took a heavy crystal decanter from the cabinet and poured a tall glass._ _

__“Are we not going to talk about what happened?”_ _

__Miranda set both hands on the counter, leaning over it, head lowered. Stress beat a harsh drum against the interior of her skull. She could not catch a break today. Bucky did not specify exactly which event he referenced. And despite all of the insanity that had consumed their lives in the past few weeks, she knew exactly which he spoke of._ _

__“Honestly, I was determined to pretend it never happened.” She tipped up the glass and swallowed a mouthful of the alcohol, snarling as it burned a path down her throat._ _

__“Why? Are you...ashamed?”_ _

__She looked at him then. Bone deep tiredness blurred the edges of her vision. Despite how hard he fought to bury it, she could see the traces of hurt on his face. It moved over him like a wave, turning to embarrassment then self loathing. And she hated herself for it._ _

__“Yes.”_ _

__Bucky drew in a sharp breath, turning his face away from her. The action physically hurt her, striking a pang deep in her chest. She downed what remained in her glass and filled it again, wishing the burn of the alcohol would consume her and reduce her body to ash. “Of myself. You should not be wasting your time on me.”_ _

__“I think that’s for me to decide.” Anger laced his words._ _

__She laughed. A sorrowful sound. “If someone told you the plane was going to go down, would you still board it?”_ _

__“What are you saying?” He asked, stepping closer to her._ _

__She _knew _she should move away, but she could not bring herself to do it. Every fiber of her being rebelled against the thought.___ _

____“Nothing good comes from attaching yourself to me. And I could not bare it-” She took in a shaky breath, gathering herself. She was stronger than this. She could control these feelings, bury them deep. But she was so tired… He moved closer still and she put up her hands, trying to keep him at arm's length. “I could not bare it if I was the reason something terrible happened to you.”_ _ _ _

____“I can take care of myself. I’m a survivor. It’s what I’ve always been...” he said, brushing a dark curl from her face._ _ _ _

____“You have no idea what you are up against.”_ _ _ _

____“Then tell me.”_ _ _ _

____She looked up at him, knowing how vulnerable she must look but too exhausted to care. “You wouldn’t believe me if i tried.”_ _ _ _

____They were so close now that her curls touched his forehead. She looked down at her hands on the broad expanse of his chest. Ever so slowly, his touch light and gentle, he lifted his hand to cup her cheek. She closed her eyes, leaning into the touch. Oh how desperately she wished to share this burden with someone else. Her fingers curled in, taking the front of his shirt with them. His heart thumped so fiercely she could feel it against her knuckles. Strong. Steady. Real._ _ _ _

____The touch of his lips to hers was feather light. He did not press in, did not demand or inquire. He simply existed. There. Against her. She pulled back ever so slightly._ _ _ _

____“Try me.” He whispered against her mouth._ _ _ _

____She gasped a half a breath then rose up to meet him. Her fingers released his shirt and slid upward, her arms encircling his neck. His hands settled at the small of her back as if they had spent a lifetime there._ _ _ _

____Kissing him was like oxygen after an eternity of deprivation. It was the cold feel of rain on a summer day. The long drag of a cigarette after years of abstaining. No amount of time in his arms would ever be enough to satisfy her, and that need for him, for someone else, terrified her._ _ _ _

____She pushed him away so forcefully that she collided with the counter behind her. The bottle of liquor shook and the alcohol in her long forgotten glass sloshed over the rim. She gripped the edge of the counter, unsure if it was more to keep herself upright or to keep her fingers from finding his skin again, burying themselves in his hair._ _ _ _

____“I will tell you once, and I will tell you again.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I am nothing more than a bad omen.”_ _ _ _

____And then she rushed from the room, knowing another second in his presence would be the death to any thread of self control she had left._ _ _ _


	16. Everything to Lose

“I always thought seeking solace in a shrine built in your honor was a bit narcissistic.”

Miranda groaned, pulling the thin blanket up over her eyes. “What can I say? The people love me.”

The woman beside her laughed. “Do they?”

“You are just jealous that no one built a temple in your honor, sister.” Miranda smiled, pulling down the blanket just enough to take her in. 

She was as strikingly beautiful as she had always been. Tall. Slim. Her posture perfect even as she leaned back on her palms, legs stretched down the steps in front of them. Her hair was pulled up in an intricate wrap that Miranda couldn’t even begin to fathom how it was achieved. 

“This was built out of love, huh?” She asked, leaning her head back to take in the arching ceilings. The plaster had long ago begun to crack. Some sections crumbled from the walls revealing the brickwork that lay beneath. 

“You know exactly why it was built.” Miranda said bitterly, scrubbing at tired eyes. “A temple built in service to an angry god in hopes that their lives might be spared at the end of time.”

“The end of time...” The woman repeated quietly.

“What are you doing here, Aristelle?”

“Well, is it not reasonable for one to question why their favorite sister is sleeping on the grubby floor of an abandoned church? It’s not reassuring, I can tell you that.”

“Favorite sister...” Miranda repeated wryly, pulling at a loose string on the blanket binding. 

“Mor, the rest of our family is insane. You were the obvious choice,” Aristelle winked at her. Miranda had little humor to spare. The smile on Aristelle’s burgundy painted lips faded quickly.

“Ara,” Miranda said, sitting up. “You don’t have to worry. I have everything under control.”

“Really?” Aristelle looked over at her, one slim blonde brow raised.

“Mhm,” Miranda said, neatly folding the blanket and setting it down beside her. 

“Is that why I haven’t heard a word from you in weeks?”

“I’m busy.” Miranda got to her feet, brushing off her jeans. “I’m in the big leagues now. If you haven’t heard.”

“Mor. Eiko called me.”

Miranda stilled. “Eiko should mind her own business and do what she’s been employed to do.”

“She is doing her job. Keeping tabs on you. _Helping _you.”__

__“If I want her help, I ask for it. I didn’t ask her to run to you like some kind of tattling toddler.”_ _

__“She’s worried about you!”_ _

__“No one worries about me.”_ _

__“You know that’s not true.”_ _

__“Tell me this,” Miranda snarled, moving in close to stand over her sister. “Did you come to check on me because you are worried about my well being, or are you worried about my ‘mindset’?”_ _

__“I-I” She recoiled stightly. “I was worried. Of course, I was worried. About you!”_ _

__Miranda hissed out a breath and spun away from her. Aristelle pushed to her feet and grasped Miranda’s arm, wrenching her backwards. Miranda twisted in her grasp, striking out with a fist. Aristelle caught her hand, grimacing at the force of it in her palm._ _

__“You know, we are all in this together.” Aristelle forced out through gritted teeth. “You don’t have to be so damn determined to do this on your own!”_ _

__“No!” Miranda jerked backwards, breaking her hold. “We are not all in this together. Because at the end of it all, none of you will be the catalyst that makes it all come crumbling down.” Miranda gasped out a breath, her hands grasping the sides of her head, fingers raking curls. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this.”_ _

__She could hear Aristelle’s heavy breaths, the sound of hesitant footsteps. “Why now?”_ _

__Miranda looked back at her through dark lashes. “What?”_ _

__“Why do you care so much now?” Slowly she moved closer, hands up to shield her face if Miranda struck out again. “This has been hanging over our heads for decades. Centuries. You’ve always done your duty. You’ve been a good soldier. But you’ve never really cared who lived or died. I was always the one who cared… So why now?”_ _

__Miranda took in a shaky breath, her fingers slowly falling away. The world around her lost focus and she saw blue eyes. A kind smile. The echo of her own elusive laugh._ _

__“Oh my god.” Aristelle straightened, realization lighting her fine features._ _

__Miranda let out an uneven breath. “What?”_ _

__A small smile pulled at the corner of Aristelle’s lips. “You’ve fallen in love.”_ _

__Miranda scoffed, trying to throw out all the spite and malice she could muster, but it sounded just as unsteady as she felt._ _

__“It’s not love,” Miranda said bitterly._ _

__“Maybe not yet. But to even see the twilight of it on your face. To see that it is possible. I had always worried that...maybe…”_ _

__Miranda wrapped her arms tightly around herself. “That I was not capable of it.”_ _

__“Mor. That’s not what I meant.”_ _

__“Isn’t it though?” Miranda said quietly, thinking of the hours she had lain awake having that exact thought. And to hear that it had been echoed in someone else’s mind made her feel entirely hopeless._ _

__Aristelle reached forward toward Miranda, her fingers settling gently on her neck. “You don’t have to look like someone just shot you in the stomach. This is a good thing, Mor. A beautiful thing!”_ _

__Miranda shook her head swallowing hard.. “How?”_ _

__“How is it not?” She exclaimed, opening her arms as though the dark building around them held the answers to all of her doubts. “Finally you are experiencing what it is in this world that I have felt so wholeheartedly is worth saving. Why I convinced you to help me in the first place.”_ _

__“Convinced?” Miranda said wryly._ _

__Guilt flickered over Aristelle’s face but was gone as quickly as it came. “It’s not so bad. Why is it so bad?”_ _

__Every bit of tiredness and overbearing stress pulled Miranda down, down like she was drowning. “Because. If this is really what you say it is...” She pulled a curl behind her ear. “For the first time, in the whole, entirety of my worthless existence...I have something to lose.”_ _

__“Oh Mor.”_ _

__Miranda leaned forward, her forehead resting on her sister’s shoulder. Aristelle went perfectly still. Her hands we held out hesitantly at her sides before coming up to hover over Miranda’s shoulders. Taking a breath, Aristelle settled them on her back. Then she pressed in, drawing her close._ _

__“What about me? Aren’t you worried about losing me?” Aristelle joked in a weak attempt to break the bleak weight of her worries._ _

__Miranda laughed, the sound holding no humor. “You know why I don’t worry about you.”_ _

__She could hear the smile in the other girl’s voice. “Still. Even a little concern would be nice.”_ _

__Miranda straightened, closed her eyes and took in a long breath. A small smile worked its way onto her lips. “We don’t buy your bullshit here. Try next door.”_ _

__“I just want you to experience what it is about humanity that is so wonderful.” Aristelle said quietly. “We both know what’s coming. We need something to fight for, Mortekaia. There is a difference between fighting when you have nothing to lose, and fighting because you have _everything _to lose.”___ _

____“And what do you have to lose, Ara? What was it that you were so terrified of losing when you set us down this path all those years?”_ _ _ _

____Aristelle looked down at her hands, her lips moving as if to form words but she stayed quiet for a long time. “I don’t think you would understand. Not yet.”_ _ _ _

____ _ _

____The moon was strung high overhead when Miranda finally returned to the compound. Exhaustion still weighted her movements, but she was far more clear headed than she had been when the day had started._ _ _ _

____She quietly opened the front door and stepped into the entry hall. Silence. She pressed the door shut and moved down the hall. She was like a ghost in the night, passing through the shrouded world, unbeknownst the sleeping souls around her._ _ _ _

____“Where have you been?”_ _ _ _

____Well. All but one._ _ _ _

____He leaned against a doorway that she thought led out into the lounge area. A dim blue glow flickered in the hallways behind him. A television maybe. Had he waited up for her? Or had he simply been up as well. It had been clear from the beginning that he was a terrible sleeper. Second only to her._ _ _ _

____“Out.”_ _ _ _

____“You wouldn’t answer your phone. We were worried about you.”_ _ _ _

____Miranda slid her phone from her pocket and cradled it in her hand. “I guess it died. Since...everything, I haven’t had a chance to charge it.”_ _ _ _

____He nodded slowly. “What about last night spooked you so hard?”_ _ _ _

____The question weighed heavy with double meaning, but she refused to let herself stare down into its depths._ _ _ _

____“You are a SHIELD sniper. I imagine you have seen far worse than this. But when I saw you earlier...you were a bit...unhinged.” There was guilt on his face. He reached a hand up to scuff the back of his neck. “Look, I’m sorry. About earlier. I shouldn’t have pushed.”_ _ _ _

____Memories ignited like a flash bomb. His fingers on her skin. That breathless curse. His lips on hers. A blush heated Miranda’s face and she turned her head to the side, hoping to hide it from him. “It’s okay. I kind of started it, I guess. At the club.”_ _ _ _

____When she looked over at him, he was watching her. The expression on his face was incredibly soft. Her heart thumped hard against her rib cage._ _ _ _

_You’ve fallen in love…_

________“What a pair we are.” He laughed, a hushed sound in an even quieter night._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______“Are we a pair?” Miranda asked quietly, running the nail of one thumb under the other._ _ _ _ _ _

______Get a grip, she scolded herself. Remember who you are dammit. But in this moment she felt entirely too small and too insignificant. She had stepped into uncharted water and maybe it was the enormity of it, or maybe it was how her visit with her sister had left her, but it had crushed the barbed front she had worked so hard to construct in his presence._ _ _ _ _ _

______He shifted from one foot to the other. The motion drew her eyes upwards to his face. His typically clean shaved jaw was shadowed with stubble. Dark smudges clouded the area beneath his eyes. He looked so tired._ _ _ _ _ _

“Have dinner with me.” 


	17. Sisters

Bucky ran a hand down the front of his shirt, smoothing his tie for the fiftieth time. Hundredth maybe? Was he nervous? Could he even remember a time when he had been nervous about a date? The sidewalk was damp, street lights glinting off its surface. Was this a date? Would she care that he felt like he was dressed like a modern day grim reaper in the sleek black suit coat, dress shirt, and tie.

_Let’s keep her focus on those baby blues and that killer jawline. Besides, black is slimming. ___

__Sam had found him in his room, hours earlier, tearing his closet apart._ _

__“Whoa.” Sam had said, side stepping a leaning heap of discarded clothing. “Were you finally selected for a Hollywood makeover show?”_ _

__Bucky had frozen and slowly turned to face him. “What?”_ _

__“What’s going on here?”_ _

__“I, uh,” Bucky’s hands rung the shirt in his grasp, the material shredding under the stress of his metal fingers._ _

__“Wait a second.” Sam had lifted a silencing finger. “Is this what I think it is?”_ _

__Bucky had swallowed. He hadn’t intended to let anyone know about their plans to meet for dinner._ _

__“Do you have a hot date?” Sam had asked, a broad grin breaking out across his face. “No way!”_ _

__Bucky had blushed. “Stop. It’s not a big deal.”_ _

__“Yes it is!” Sam threw himself back on Bucky’s bed. “I bet this is your first date since 1945.”_ _

__Bucky had leveled him with a glare._ _

__“It is! Who is it?”_ _

__Bucky had turned away from him, reaching back into his closet, intent to ignore his goding._ _

__“Okay, fine. Don’t tell me. At least tell me where you are taking her. We gonna make you look fly as hell.”_ _

__“It’s foolish.” Bucky hesitated, leaning his forearm against the threshold of his closet. “That’s what it is.”_ _

__“How?”_ _

__“We are elbow deep in investigating some kind of demon creatures like nothing we’ve ever seen before. 13 people died in that club. Two women have been murdered by satanic worshippers. We have no answers. We are no closer. And I am going to dinner. With a woman. Me. A cyber-enhanced assassin. Who was I kidding. It’s just idiotic.”_ _

__“Buck.” Sam sat up slowly. “Man. We take every day for what it is. There is always going to be some kind of catastrophic event. Someone is always dying. The apocalypse is always closing in. You have to take the enjoyment where it is offered. Go to dinner with this girl. Have some drinks. Romance her. Kiss her. Go back to her place for a nightcap...You deserve it. After everything you’ve gone through... You deserve it.”_ _

__Bucky took in a shaky breath and stepped off the curb and toward the restaurant across the street. Tall, perfectly clear glass windows lined its front, showing off the expensive decor and clean mid-century modern stylings. He was early, and yet, as he approached the front doors, he could see Miranda waiting for him._ _

__She stood on the sidewalk like a goddess among men. Posture tall, shoulders square, one leg crossed in front of the other as she scrolled through something on her phone. The dress she wore was black as night. A slit in the draped skirt cut up high on her hip revealing an impressive length of sculpted thigh. The neckline dropped low into her ribcage, the swell of her breasts emphasized in the harsh light of the street lamps. Her lips were a dark burgundy, set off by the dark, dramatic makeup smudged around her silver eyes. What hair had not been shorn short was teased and curled in perfect Miranda fashion._ _

__It was a stunning display, and she apologized for none of it._ _

__“Miranda.”_ _

__A single word._ _

__One he had spoken dozens of times before. But this time it was different. It carried with it the weight of endless possibilities. It marked the moment that would forever set them down another path. The beginning of a new version of themselves. The product of a decision made by another equally singular word._ _

__Yes._ _

__He took in a steadying breath as she studied him quietly. A small smile lifted the corner of her painted lips. “James. I see we both share the same exquisite color palette.”_ _

__He smiled, sliding his hands into his pockets as he rocked back on his heels and looked down at himself. “It looks far better on you.”_ _

__“Hmm.” Her light eyes traveled down him and he forced himself to stillness. “I would have to disagree.”_ _

__He could feel his heart flutter in his chest and he was a little breathless as he offered her his arm._ _

__“I suppose we have plenty to talk about,” Bucky said as he slid into his seat opposite Miranda. “I feel as though I don’t know much about you.”_ _

__She laughed lightly . “I typically make an effort to keep my personal life personal. My family is little to brag about.”_ _

__“A large family? Small?”_ _

__She sighed, picking up the menu from the table and leading through it. “It’s...I’m not sure it’s really something you want to hear about on a first date. My family is...complicated.”_ _

__Bucky nodded. Tension had overtaken her body, and her hands were keeping themselves anywhere but still._ _

__“I had a sister.” Bucky picked up his own menu. “Have a sister? I’ve come so close so many times to looking for her. It wouldn’t be hard. Not with the technology surrounding us now...but. I can’t bring myself to do it.”_ _

__“Why?”_ _

__He was quiet for a moment. “I guess...I guess I’m afraid of what I might find. Did she live a good life? Did she find nothing but tragedy? I will see on paper everything that I missed witnessing for myself in her life. College. Marriage. Kids…”_ _

__“You talk about her like she’s passed.”_ _

__“I imagine at the age she would be, she either is or is close.”_ _

__Miranda leaned forward, her elbows on the table. “You don’t want to know?”_ _

__“What would be the point? She won’t know me. Steve was the same person then as he was after going down in that ship, as he was when he went back in time to be with Peggy. He is a never budging constant of a human being. I’m like the anti-Steve.”_ _

__Miranda laughed. “I think someone has thought about this far too much.”_ _

__“I mean, seriously though. What would she think of what I’ve become? Would it terrify her? Disgust her? Would she feel sorry for me? That, I think, would be worst of all.”_ _

__“She would be proud of what you have overcome.” Miranda reached across the table to settle a hand on his fidgeting fingers. “That time with...HYDRA. That’s not who you are anymore. You are much more than that. You are a man who’s built himself into a hero, but still sees himself as the villain.”_ _

__Sometimes it was a bit unnerving how fully Miranda saw him, almost as though she recognized in him the same flaws she saw on herself. Same finding refuge in the like. “When you have seen yourself as the villain for so long, does that ever truly go away?”_ _

__“I don’t know.” Her face became strangely melancholy, her hand squeezing his. “All we can do is try.”_ _

__Their eyes locked and held._ _

__“I’m sorry.” He laughed, breaking her hold. “This is not superficial first date talk is it?”_ _

__She shrugged a shoulder, a soft smile on her face. “I like someone who can be real.”_ _

__Bucky took in a breath, and he watched Miranda do the same, though she looked like she was preparing herself to step in front of a firing squad._ _

__“I have three sisters,” she said._ _

__“Hi!” A waiter materialized beside them. “I am Zeke. I will be your waiter tonight. Do we want to start with drinks or are you ready to order? As we are a topaz restaurant I do recommend that you order at least three or four dishes.”_ _

__Bucky stared up at him for a moment, having almost entirely forgotten where they were. “Uh.”_ _

__Miranda had seemed to retreat back into herself, and Bucky could help but curse this waiter. “We will have one of everything.”_ _

__“Ah, yes. A popular choice. You will not be disappointed, sir. And to drink?”_ _

__“Wine. Whatever you recommend.” Bucky said, trying to rid them or the waiter._ _

__“Ah!” The young man beamed down at him. “My favorite answer! I will be back with a bottle shortly.”_ _

__Miranda watched the waiter leave, turning her salad fork over and over._ _

__“Three sisters?” Bucky asked, hoping to lead them back into the comfortable atmosphere they had settled into before._ _

__She smiled, as though she had hoped he might forget she had spoken at all but knew she never would. “Yes.”_ _

__“That must have been a bit crazy. Just with two women in the house growing up, it could get a bit cut throat at times.”_ _

__“Competitive. It was very competitive. “_ _

__“Really?”_ _

__“Yes. My sisters and I were a bit...intense._ _

__“Do you see them often?”_ _

__She laughed, the fork turning over and over. “Yeah. We, Um, don’t really talk anymore.”_ _

__“And your mother?”_ _

__She made a face, reaching up to smooth a hand over the back of her hair. “My mom wasn’t really around.”_ _

__“Ah.” Bucky said quietly._ _

__“Our father wasn’t exactly…” She stared down at her hands as though they held the word she was searching for. “Paternal?”_ _

__“Did he…” Bucky hesitated for a moment, unsure how thin of ice they stood on. “Did he hit you?”_ _

__Her smile sharpened and Bucky felt his fists contract of their own accord. “Father, though, sunk most of his effort into psychological warfare. My sisters hated me.”_ _

__Her voice had become very small and his question was almost breathless in response. “Why?”_ _

__“Because I was his favorite.”_ _

__They sat in silence a moment, Bucky unsure how to tread in these uncertain waters. Her eyes were distant, reliving a past life._ _

__“He always told me he gave too much of himself to me. That it was my duty to stand by his side.”_ _

__Intense, Bucky thought. “Family business?”_ _

__She smiled at him, but her expression remained as sharp as it had been moments earlier. “You could say that.”_ _

__“So he treated you with some amount of favoritism?”_ _

__“To be father’s favorite did not mean kinder treatment. It just meant that he focused every fiber of his being into sculpting me into his perfect creation.”_ _

__“But you got out from underneath his thumb?”_ _

__“One day I decided I was tired of being clay.” Silver eyes flicked to him. “I joined the marines. Clawed my way through boot camp and got deployed. I haven’t been back since.” She sat back and shrugged a shoulder. “I made some pretty impossible shots and it put me on SHIELD’s radar. The rest is history.”_ _

__“That is something we have in common,” Bucky said as the waiter returned and poured their wine then disappeared again. “A career as snipers.”_ _

__She nodded slowly, reaching out to grasp her napkin and spread it over her lap. “You know I was there that day. In Bucharest.”_ _

__He was quiet. Not entirely sure what to say. A million thoughts warred in his mind._ _

__Humor softened the knife sharp edges of her features. “I got a three week suspension for disobeying orders.”_ _

__When he looked over at her, that trademark smirk he had come to know so well played on her lips._ _

__“What did you do?”_ _

__“Well. I didn’t shoot you.”_ _

__A long pause stretched out between them._ _

__“Why?”_ _

__“I saw your face when you jumped out that window. All you wanted was to be left alone. I’ve been there. I felt you deserved every opportunity to have that. To not have it taken from you like everything else. I had read your file. I knew what you had been through.”_ _

__The seriousness of her tone surprised him. He had only seen glimpses of this girl, though she had been more present tonight than ever before. The one that stood behind the false bravado and razor sharp wit. Something dark and heavy pressed in on this Miranda making her all hard lines and sharp edges. He felt that if he came too close to what lay there in the dark, he risked drawing blood._ _

__“And I mean shit, who am I to question Captain America’s judge of character?”_ _

__And just like that, the darkness lifted and her usual mask slipped into place, a smile worn like armor. Every word a weapon In her arsenal._ _

__“I’ve known Steve to make plenty of bad calls.”_ _

__She huffed a laugh. “Would have been nice to know before I staked my career on it.”_ _

__“Yeah, but every bad decision he makes, he makes for the right reason.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are enjoying reading this story as much as I enjoy writing it. :)


	18. Dangerous Waters

“I have lived in this city for a very long time, but I have never really taken the time to enjoy it,” Miranda said. 

Bucky’s hand was warm in hers. A cool summer breeze whispered over her skin, raising goosebumps, and she shivered. He glanced over at her and she smiled at him. It was a small smile, but she could feel the realness of it down to the tingle in her toes. His fingers tightened around hers.

“I’ve done most of my exploring after dark. I preferred the ambiguity of it,” he said. “There are some remarkable things to experience in this city at night.”

He turned off the sidewalk and onto a slim cobblestone path that threaded its way between the dense outstretched arms of low hanging foliage. It left them entirely immersed in the dark. Her grip on him tightened. When the pathway broadened again, they were inside a garden. Miranda took in a breath.

It was as though they had been submerged into the belly of some fantastical beast. Trees arched overhead, tall and slim and pale, like ribs against the dark sky. Strands of cafe lights had been draped through the trees, bathing the space in warm light. Flowers bloomed at their feet, bushes brimming with blossoms. In the distance, she could hear faint cords of music.

“This way.”

His voice was barely a whisper as he pulled her deeper into the garden. The music became louder as they moved down the pathway. She could hear laughter, people talking, the clink of glassware. They stepped into a small bricked alcove above what looked to be the general seating and dance floor for the gathering. A line of trees and flowers separated them from the small crowd, leaving them unnoticed. 

A band had been assembled on a makeshift stage. A piano, cellist and drum set fought for footage at the back for stage. The singer was a young man, his eyes closed as he serenaded his audience, his voice low and smooth. An assortment of string instruments flanked him.

“What is this place?”

“Every weekend a local college hosts concerts in the garden. I like the music.”

It was a modern, soulful indie track. Several couples swayed in the space that had been cleared at the front of the tables.

Her smile turned sly. “Did you bring me back here to show me what this ‘real dancing’ looks like?”

He brought her hand up, settling it over his. The warm light of the cafe lights glinted off his metal hand. “It’s been a very long time since I took a girl dancing. A lifetime ago.”

“I expect to be dazzled.”

He smiled at her and she took an unsteady breath. The things she would do to keep that smile on his face. He squared his shoulders and brought his feet together. Eyes closed, he listened to the music, his body swaying lightly as he worked at the rhythm. A warmth spread through her chest as she watched him, a fondness she was not sure she had ever felt before.

_Dangerous _, a voice chided. _Dangerous waters.___

_______He opened his eyes and stepped into her. Caught off guard, she shuffled to keep up. He laughed lightly. “It’s okay if you don’t know how to dance.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

____She glared at him. “I know how to dance. You just surprised me.”_ _ _ _

_____ _

They settled into a rhythm, moving around the open space. He stepped in, then moved away, a gentle press or tug on her hand moving her easily around him. She couldn’t stop her smile. “What I want to know is how _you _know how to dance.”__

_______ _ _ _

______He spun her out then pulled her in, her back against his chest. He dipped to the side and she let herself curve in his arms. His mouth hovered over her throat for just a moment, his breath warm on her skin and she fought back the shiver that rose in response. Then he brought her back to center._ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

______“My sister took dance classes. She needed a partner. Besides, back then women liked to go dancing.”_ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

______“Men these days are ashamed of learning to dance. It is really a travesty.”_ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

______“You like a man who can dance?”_ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

______They moved together, smooth and unhesitating. Their bodies were only inches apart. She leaned into him, the smell of his cologne was faint. “I like a man with stamina.”_ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

______They twisted and turned as the song reached its climax, but she knew that he had caught a glimpse of her devilish smile. A flush had risen at his collar, and a light sweat dampened his palm. And then she was laughing._ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

______“What?” He eyed her suspiciously._ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

______“Do you not see the humor in this? Even just a little? To be who we are, what we are, and yet act as though we are an average couple stealing a dance alone together in the night.”_ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

______“I think, after everything we have survived, it is owed to us.”_ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

______“Cashing in your IOU to the universe?”_ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

______“Even we deserve happiness, Em.”_ _ _ _ _ _

_____ _

_Even we deserve happiness._

_______ _ _ _

_Em._

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__________The words left her breathless. They soothed a part of her that had laid in the shadows of her mind for years. The part of her that had torn her down, destroyed any ounce of self worth. This man knew what it was like to feel like you were less. To look at your life, at what you were created to be and see nothing but destruction. That you are nothing. Barely more than a screwdriver in a toolbox. And yet, she was something to him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__________The desire to kiss him senseless, to feel his body pressed in against hers was so strong it left her breathless. He spun her out but she did not come back to him. Instead she took one testing step back towards the dark behind her. After a moment he followed her. Leaving behind the rasping ballad._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__________She drew him closer, her hands on his neck, and kissed him. His hands were on her waist, her back, her shoulders. They stumbled backward, entirely enveloped by the dark now. She knew what could happen in the seclusion of the night. How hands suddenly became bolder, mouths braver. And she hoped desperately for it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__________Her back met the gnarled bark of a broad oak tree, and he pressed in. All she could smell, all she could feel was him. Her world had narrowed to this single man, to the feel of his mouth on her skin, his hands in her hair, and was not sure she ever wanted anything more ever again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__________His mouth hovered over hers, and then he hesitated. “Are you sure?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Sure?” She asked, dazed, drunk on the taste of him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__________“About me?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I’ve never been so sure about anything in my entire existence.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________ _ _ _ _ _


	19. I Will Not Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy ;)

The expression on her face, the dark, heady cast of her gaze, left him as little more than putty in her hands. He let her draw him into the dark, past the perimeter of the trees, beyond the reaches of human voices. All that remained was a faint hum of music. 

Any decent man would have politely pulled her back into the center of their little dance floor, would have kept the night at chaste kisses stolen under the stars. Instead they moved farther and farther into the night. 

He knew they shouldn’t. 

He knew he should be the voice of reason. That they shouldn’t be doing this. Not here. But then her lips were on his. There was the excitement of battle, the adrenaline of warfare, and then there was this. Her fingers in his hair. Her lips on his skin. 

It had been a long time since he had been a decent man...

They stumbled back and he put a hand out, his palm catching on bark. He pressed into her, pinning her between him and the trunk. He could not think straight when he kissed her. Every bit of reason left his body every single time. So he pulled back, drawing in a shaky breath. 

He hated himself for the doubt, and begged desperately that she did not share it. “Are you sure?”

“Sure?” She asked. Her lips were full and red from the hard press of his mouth. God, what a state she was. 

“About me?”

“I have never been so sure about anything in my entire existence.”

His laugh was breathless and entirely void of humor. “If you really knew me...if you knew what I’ve done.”

“I’ve seen your file.”

Shame overcame him. So hot and sudden it almost made him dizzy. There is plenty that did not make it to the file. Things they couldn’t prove. Things they don’t know about. 

“How about this?” She said, her lips moving against his as she spoke. “I promise I won’t be afraid of your demons if you won’t be afraid of mine.”

He wanted to refute the statement, to claim that no one could have demons worse than his, but her fingers were in his hair now. And her teeth were doing something that made it entirely too difficult for him to focus. He captured her mouth, kissing her long and deep until they were both gasping. His hands moved over her body, exploring the curve of her hips, the round line of her butt. A shy thumb brushed lightly against the swell of her breasts. He could feel her smile against his mouth. 

“Don’t stop on my account,” she breathed into his ear. 

But again, he hesitated. She was pressed into the tree, head back, throat bared to him. Her chest rose and fell in small, uneven gasps. He knew what she wanted. He saw reflected in her the most primal of his desires, those that had been buried deep for so many years. But would he remember what it was to please a woman? Would he fumble? Would she laugh?

Her eyes focused on him through the fog of her thoughts. Her pupils were blown wide, her irises nothing more than a thin rim of silver. Her hand lifted his, long slender fingers guiding his hand up and pressing aside the material of her dress until his hand had captured her breast. Her eyes never left his. He could feel the hard peak of her nipple against his palm. His thumb moved of its own accord, brushing over the sensitive skin. Her eyes closed, her body shuddering lightly. A soft sound escaped her parted lips and blood thundered so hard through his body in response that it hurt. It left him breathless and dizzy, and before his mind gained control again, told him to be sensible, that they were in a _public _garden, he lowered his mouth.__

__Her body arched and her fingers wove into his hair, her nails dragging over his scalp. He sucked at her, nipped, rolled his tongue over its peak. He brought up his other hand, the metal hand, and again found himself hesitating. What if he hurt her? What if he couldn’t tell when he crossed the needle thin line between pain and pleasure. But then she slipped a slender finger down her neckline, pulling it to the side revealing the ample swell of her second breast._ _

__She trusted him. She put her faith in the thought that he would not hurt her._ _

__“I don’t like to be teased,” she said, breathless, pulling the neckline farther to the side to reveal one bare shoulder, cords of muscle sliding beneath smooth skin._ _

__“Well that’s too bad.” Bucky said, his eyes flicking up to hers. His grin was wicked as he hovered over her, relishing at the way goosebumps rose on her bare skin in the wake of his breath. For once, he felt as though he held the power, that he was the one leaving her breathless and yearning. “Then you are not going to enjoy this very much._ _

__His lips whispered across her skin, kissing the valley between her breasts, then moving up, up ever so slowly until he had captured her in his mouth once more. Pressing his metal hand into the tree behind them for balance, the mechanisms whirring softly, he brought his other hand up to grasp what he had just abandoned. Her skin was damp, and he could feel the ridged memory of his teeth on her skin._ _

__She groaned, her body starting at his touch. Her hips slid over his and he gasped at the sensation. There had been a time when he had worried that maybe he had been too far damaged. That maybe, after everything he had been through, after HYDRA had unmade him, that there were parts of him that might not react as they once had._ _

__But he had been wrong._ _

__The warmth that had simmered low in his core ignitied. It roared to life, consuming him, pulling him under a blazing sea of fire. He was a drowning man, gasping for air, and she was the surface._ _

__His mouth moved up to trace her collar bone, to suck lightly on the curve of her neck, slip along the line of her jaw and then found their home on her lips. She kissed him feverishly. Her hands were inside his coat, pulling at his shirt, freeing it from where it was tucked. Her fingers were hot on his skin, sliding up his stomach. He breathed a shaky breath against her lips, but she pressed forward until she was everything. Everything he touched, everything he tasted._ _

__She made quick work of the buttons and pushed it aside. Her lips abandoned his mouth to move to his throat. Her teeth grazed his skin and when she bit down on the junction of where his neck met his shoulder his knees threatened to give way. And then her lips were on the marred skin of his left shoulder and he stilled, his whole body going rigid. His forehead pressed into the tree trunk and he closed his eyes hard. This would be it. She would see how truly ugly he was, how damaged and worthless._ _

__A finger traced the seam where skin met metal. A soft caress that made him shiver. Never had this part of him been touched so intimately._ _

__“You are a wonder,” she whispered._ _

__He let out a shaky, skeptical laugh. Her hand traveled down his metal arm. He was aware of the touch but could not truly feel it, though he wished terribly he could. She grasped his hand, metal flashing in the moonlight, and brought it up to cradle the curve of her breast._ _

__“I’m not afraid of what you are.”_ _

__And then her hands were on his stomach. The touch of her fingertips feather light. The muscles there contracted at the feel of her on his skin. They slid down, down until they settled on his belt. The course of blood in his veins felt electric. Having her so close to the most private parts of himself left him breathless. All he could hear was the slide of the leather, the clink of the buckle, the pop of the button on his slacks._ _

__He gasped as her fingers wrapped around him. His body swayed and pressed into her. He could feel her smile against his shoulder, and the pressure tightened around him. He moved in her hand, his body responding to her touch. A groan escaped him, his body leaning in, his knees buckling slightly. The hand over her breast tightened._ _

__“Miranda, god.” His voice was choked, breaking as her fingers tightened further._ _

__“Em. I liked when you called me, Em.”_ _

__Her fingers moved down his length, caressing the tip. He was so hard it hurt. He gritted his teeth, swallowing. She did not get to have all the fun._ _

__He traced a finger up the length of her leg, starting on the outside of her knee then crossing over to the inside of her thigh. The slit in the material parted easily, and her hand stilled on him as he traced the lace edge of her panties. The world had narrowed to nothing more than their ragged breaths in the dark night as he hooked a finger over the band and pulled down._ _

__And then he was touching her, delving into the most private of places. He moved a finger up her center, sliding over sensitive tissues. This time, it was her who grasped at him for balance, her arm hooking around his neck as every muscle in her body contracted._ _

__He concentrated on the place that garnered this reaction from her. She made a strangled, unintelligible sound as he pressed harder. He could feel her bared teeth against his shoulder, the warmth of her gasps._ _

__“Fuck,” she breathed._ _

__“I’m trying,” he teased, pressing a kiss to her damp temple._ _

__Her fingers threaded through his hair and tugged, pulling his lips to hers, and as he slid his fingers inside her, she gasped against his mouth. Her head fell back and she moaned, her body reflexively tightening as he worked his thumb over the sensitive nerves at her entrance. She moved against his hand, her fingers tightening their grip on his hair. He hardly felt the pain of it, hardly registered anything over the tightness in his groin._ _

__His mouth dropped to her shoulder, the exposed curve of her throat. He bit at smooth skin, mimicking what she had done to him. The thumb of his left hand traced her nipple, rolling it between his fingers. He worked desperately to be gentle enough with that hand, but the sound she made, of undeniable pleasure, did little to nurture his restraint._ _

__Her fingers shook as a hand pushed down the waist of his slacks. The night air was cool on his skin, and he shivered. Her cheek pressed against his temple, her breath ragged in his ear as he slid his fingers free of her. He ran a hand over the curve of her butt and down the back of her leg, drawing her knee up to hook it over his hip._ _

__Her eyes were dark, watching him as he settled himself into the cradle of her hips. The hand threaded through his hair and drew him closer, her lips capturing his in a raw and savage kiss. It was all teeth and tongues and noses and in that moment he pushed up into her._ _

__Everything fell away. The faint sound of the music, the cool night air, the prickle of sweat on his skin. Nothing else existed. It was only this. The union of their bodies. The warm feel of her around him. Her shuddering breath against his. He buried himself deep inside her, as far as he could manage._ _

__They both stilled. One heartbeat. Then two. It was almost incomprehensible. To be here with this woman, this incredible woman._ _

__“Are you, are you alright?” she breathed, kissing his jaw lightly. The tenderness of it made his heart ache._ _

__He moved, sliding out slowly, then pressing back in. Her back arched, her stomach against his._ _

__“I’m...I don’t know if I can define how this feels.” He whispered against her neck. “To be inside you. To feel just how much you want me.”_ _

__She moved his hand from the back of her knee to settle the flat of his palm over the curve of her butt, encouraging him to pull her closer still. If that was even possible. “Then show me.”_ _

__He began to move, rocking back then up. He started slow, not entirely trusting himself. He was stronger now, faster than he had been the last time he had done this. He could not break her, this precious gift he had found. She moved with him, angling her hips, creating a delicious amount of friction that left his knees weak. He put his hand out against the tree, digging in for purchase, working to stay upright against the waves of pleasure over taking him._ _

__He settled into a steady rhythm. One that felt safe. One that he felt he could keep under control. Her mouth was on his neck, his jaw, his shoulder. Opposite of her mouth was her hands, moving over his body, leaving feather light touches in the most delicious places._ _

__“You are holding back, James.” Her voice was little more than a whisper in his ear. His name on her lips in this most intimate of moments nearly undid him right then and there. “I am not a delicate flower. I will not break.”_ _

__“I-“ He gasped as her fingers suddenly did something, touched him in a way he had never experienced before. This time his knees did give slightly and they slid down a few inches. Her laugh was music in his ears. “I don’t know my own strength yet. Not in this.”_ _

__“You did not break me in that training room,” she purred. “And you will not do so now. I promise.”_ _

__He drew back, nearly pulling out completely, then hesitated._ _

__“If you don’t fuck me like you mean it, Barnes,” she smiled her devilish smile at him. “I will be sorely disappointed. We don’t want that, do we?”_ _

He closed his eyes, forehead resting on her shoulder. _Please, please don’t let me regret this._

____

____And then he thrust up and into her with an undeniable amount of strength. She gasped, her back thumping back against the tree. He pulled back and thrust in. Hard. He gritted his teeth, fighting to stay standing at this sensation. When they had slid down, it had readjusted them, heightening the friction even further._ _ _ _

____

____“God.” She gasped, her fingers digging into his skin. “God. Yes. Don’t stop. Please.”_ _ _ _

____

_Please._

______ _ _

______Any ounce of restraint he had clung to fled him at that single word. That desperate, breathless pleading word. Every doubt, every worry exiting his mind as he chased the rising euphoria._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______She clung to him, her fingers dragging over his back as she attempted to pull him closer, harder against her. Every thrust was met with an exhalation, but it was becoming difficult to discern if it was his or hers. Her grip on him was iron tight, hard enough to bruise. He hoped he would bruise, that there would be evidence of her fingers on his body long after this night. Proof for his doubtful mind days later when he would look back on this night and wonder if it had all been some kind of feverish dream._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______It was hard to control the sounds he was making. Sounds he had never heard himself make before. In an effort to try to somehow lessen the noise he put his mouth on her shoulder. She shuddered as his teeth grazed her skin._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______Starbursts were forming in the dark of his closed eyes. His lungs burned as he gasped for breath. He wasn’t even sure he could feel his toes anymore, not over the sensations streaking like lightning through his body._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______He could feel her beginning to tighten around him. If she did not leave marks before, her nails across his skin now would be leaving red trails in their wake. She was saying his name, over and over echoing his quickening pace. Each thrust had become more desperate than the next, slamming into her as he teetered on the edge._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______He brought his arm around her back, sliding up and in just so that she came apart in his arms. Her voice in that moment, the tight spasming feel of her, pushed him over the precipice._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______“God, fuck, Em. Em…” He breathed his name for her into her ear, his knees finally giving way and they dropped slightly as he pressed in on her._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity. Both gasping for breath but not wanting to move away just yet. Her fingers caressed his jaw, a thumb tracing over the curve of his lower lip. Then she kissed him softly, with all the gentleness in the world._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _


	20. Olcora

“Basically at this point, main street is a black hole. The National Guard has sent six soldiers in over the course of the morning and none have returned or made contact with the base team.” Director Mackenzie drew a circle around the projected city at the center of the room as Miranda strode in, buckling the last of her uniform into place. 

She felt uncomfortable in it, as though it was the final piece of the puzzle that made every lie she had ever told unto this point concrete and real. She could see how easy it could be to forget Mortekaia and simply be Miranda. The girl who had woken that morning beside a dozing, hundred-year-old super soldier.

Said super soldier glanced up at her entrance, his eyes catching on her. This was the first he had seen her uniform, and his eyes moved slowly over her. She ignored the tightness in her belly at his gaze. How it lingered on her legs, moved up her body to meet her eyes. There was a lopsided grin on his face and he gave her a subtle, but approving nod.

No one knew about what was developing between them. That they had spent the past several nights together, refugees against their own nightmares and finding solace in each other’s company during their mutual insomnia. She kept her distance from him, settling herself in a chair near the back of the room. Daisy glanced over at her, offering a small smile.

“At this point, the plan is to send in a small team to infiltrate the dead zone and report back. Once you hit Main Street, Miranda we want eyes high. Rifle and scope. Wilson. In the skies. Bucky, Daisy, one the ground. Find out what exactly is going on.”

“What do you want from me?” Daniel Sousa asked, shifting his shoulders towards Daisy.

“Shuri’s flight was scheduled to leave this morning, but she has agreed to extend her stay. We want you with her, be her extra set of hands. She’s working as we speak to attempt to modify your communicators against whatever it is that is blocking our communications.”

The second Miranda stepped out of the vehicle and onto the street everything felt...sideways. It was no less unsettling for being difficult to explain. It lifted the small hairs on the back of her neck as something inside her rose to awareness. 

Eiko had not answered her phone. 

Eiko never missed a call. 

Aristelle did not answer either. But that was not entirely uncommon for her. And yet, it did not settle well. 

“Is everything alright?” Bucky asked quietly as he followed behind her on the street, automatic rifle in his hands. Safety off. She could see it in the way he carried himself. The tension in his shoulders. He felt it too. The wrongness of it. 

“I don’t know.” Miranda replied. Her rifle still hung from her back, but she had little desire to carry her long range rifle like Bucky’s automatic. Instead,her pistol was pressed tightly into her palm. 

“It’s really quiet.” Daisy remarked. 

And it was. There were no cars on the streets. No engines idling at stop lights. No children screamed in excitement. There was not even the absent sound of birds exhausting their morning chat. 

“Do you still have radio contact?” Miranda asked, passing the open door of an apartment. 

It had not been the first open door they had passed. As though those within had simply gotten up and walked out, not even taking the time to lock up in their absence. 

“I do,” Daisy said over the crackle of a voice from the radio on her belt. 

Ahead of them on the street was a cluster of parked cars. Some had been kept to their lanes, but others had pulled into oncoming traffic or were angled this way and that. Every car had an open door. All of them empty. 

They approached slowly. Guns raised. 

“Where is everyone?” Daisy asked. 

“I’m concerned that might be a question we don’t want answered,” Miranda said, peering into the backseat of a small SUV. There was a child’s car seat. It was empty. 

“Main Street will be just ahead,” Daisy directed and lifted her radio. “HQ. Do you copy?” 

“We copy. You are good to go.” 

A shadow swept across the pavement, broad winged and quick. She looked up in time to see Sam disappear over the top of a parking garage. They approached the next intersection. It would be Main Street. Tucked against the base of the buildings along the side wall, they gathered at the corner. Miranda closed her eyes, focusing, listening. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Once. Twice. Then it cut off abruptly.

“Miranda,” Bucky touched her shoulder. “Up.” 

Above them hovered the end of a fire escape. 

“I will boost you up,” he said, settling his rifle onto the carrier on his back and cupping his hands. 

“You realize that’s like 10 feet up?” Miranda grinned at him, securing her pistol in its holder. 

“I ate a good breakfast this morning.” 

Miranda laughed, shaking her head. She set her foot in the cradle of his hands and balanced herself on his shoulders. She looked up to find Daisy watching them, a peculiar look on her face. Then she was moving up and away. The fire escape clattered as she grasped the bottom platform and she cringed, pulling herself up. 

“Ready?” She could hear Bucky ask Daisy far below. 

Daisy nodded and swung out into the street. She hesitated, taking one uncertain step. The determined expression on her face gave way to confusion. And then... nothingness. 

Miranda pressed on, taking the fire escape stairs two at a time. She could hear Bucky call to Daisy. The crunch of his boots as he followed her out into the street. Miranda paused at the next landing, her breath uneven with the effort of her climb. 

Daisy was moving again, walking forward in a manner that could only be described as drifting. Bucky grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back. Daisy snarled and turned on him, lifting her hand. 

“Don’t make us do it.”

The air rushed from Miranda’s lungs. It was a voice she had not heard in years. Centuries. It took her back to that moment. The surge of power. The feeling of desperation, emptiness. The incantation taking hold and dragging its victim down, down into oblivion. 

“I know who you are. What you are to my sister. We would like you alive.”

The world bled to red. The final levels of the fire escape were a blur, and then she was on the rooftop, stumbling towards its edge. Bucky was in the street, gun raised, slowly advancing. Far down the street in front of him was a gathering of people. They all stood perfectly still, inhumanly still. At the center of their small circle stood a woman. Hair that blazed red as fire, streaked with gold. Her long features set on an oval face. Unmistakable. One of two faces that populated her nightmares.

Her sister raised her hand, fingers slowly folding until she was pointing at Bucky. “What have they done to your mind? I can see it, feel the shape of it, and yet I cannot penetrate its boundary.”

“I’m a little over mind control,” Bucky snarled. 

The sound of his voice brought everything rushing in, enveloping her like a tidal wave. Miranda reached back and pulled her rifle from her shoulder. A gunshot cracked through the air. Bucky had fired. A figure collapsed in the street in front of her sister. 

A girl.

Maybe sixteen. Blood gathered in a great crimson pool around her head, soaking her blood waves. A macabre halo. 

The muzzle of Bucky’s gun trembled.

Miranda drew in a long slow breath and settled herself behind the gun sight. She would not miss. She knew it would not kill her sister. Not really. But it would sever her hold on their minds. And she would be lying to herself if she said watching her sister bleed out on the pavement wouldn’t be satisfying. 

“Uh uh uh,” her sister risked, then looked up, straight at Miranda. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

Her sister lifted a hand and pointed and Miranda’s eyes followed the line of her finger. Seven figures darkened the edge of the adjacent rough top. Six uniformed soldiers, each with the same slack expression Daisy had collected the moment she had stepped onto the Main Street. And the seventh figure…

She could see the physical jerk of Bucky's gasp far below her on the street. 

Sam. Wings tucked in. Goggles on. Arms at his side. A perfect mirror of the soldiers beside him.

“Are you willing to gamble on whether they fall forward or back when you shoot me?”

Miranda looked from Sam to her sister to Bucky. Bucky’s eyes were on his friend. His gun was lowered and he had taken one step, as though he thought maybe he could make it to his friend before any harm did. 

They were soldiers. They knew what that meant, what it could cost them. And maybe she could have done it to those nameless soldiers. Pulled the trigger and gambled with their lives as she had done with so many others. But Sam… To let him fall was the destroy a part of Bucky. Could she live with that? And would he forgive her for it?

“That’s the thing about love. It makes you weak. But you’ve always known that. It’s the code you’ve lived by.” Her sister's gaze shifted to Bucky. “So what makes him so damn special.”

Miranda sat back, setting down her rifle. 

The fortress of bodies around her sister shifted, parting to allow her a path towards Bucky. Miranda stepped up onto the short wall surrounding the rooftop. 

“Let them go, Oclora. This is between you and me.”

And then she jumped.


	21. Birds

Miranda landed on the pavement in front of him, crouched low, one hand down for balance. 

“Sam.” She commanded, standing slowly.

Bucky took one astonished step back. How was this possible? The drop from the rooftop was at least five stories, and she landed here without so much as a scratch.

“Go,” She snarled.

And then he was moving, running for the building Sam stood atop. Something powerful settled in the air, an electricity that lifted the hairs on his arms and goosebumps on his skin. He crashed through the building’s lobby doors in a shower of glass and metal. Skidding to a stop in front of the elevator, he pounded on the call button. It lit faintly and he could hear the whirr of mechanisms. 

“Come on!” He shouted, his frustrations mounting as he pounded the flat of his hand against the doors. The indicator dinged, and the doors pulled back. The indentation of hand disappearing as the doors disappeared into their pockets.

The sun beat down hot when he stepped out onto the rooftop, a bead of sweat running down his back. He surged forward, running for the men teetering on the edge. 

“You think I’m just going to let these people go?” He heard the woman, Olcora, say. “I finally, finally have something I can use against you.”

“You think I care about these people?” Miranda snarled. “They mean nothing to me.”

Bucky grasped Sam’s arm and gathered a fistful of his jacket, poised to pull him back. He looked down at Miranda. She had prowled closer to Olcora.

“So you don’t care if she lives or dies?” Olcora asked, nodding beyond Miranda. 

Bucky looked to where Daisy stood. He let out a shaky breath. Her pistol was in her hand, muzzle pressed into her jaw. The expression on the agent’s face never faltered. A dutiful servant to the hand that played her.

Olcora’s smile was fiendish. “Think I won’t pull the trigger?”

Miranda did not waver as the sound of the gunshot rang like a crack through Bucky’s skull. He almost couldn’t make himself look. But there was no blood. Daisy remained on her feet. Instead, it was as though the ignition of the gunpowder had imploded the gun. The weapon crumpled in on itself, falling from Daisy’s hand.

Olcora strode forward. “I’m tired of your tricks. Of you always thinking you are better than me. But you are wrong.”

“Come on,” Bucky pulled Sam back. “Off the edge.”

Sam struggled against him. “No. I have to be here. She told me to wait.”

“Well you can wait back here,” Bucky gritted his teeth, fighting to keep his grip as Sam began to flail. 

Sam’s elbow caught him in the jaw. A boot heel rammed down the inside of his ankle.

“Alright,” Bucky hauled his friend back with far more strength and far less care than he had been previously. “Enough of this.” 

They hit the ground with a thud and then Sam was on him like a wild cat, desperate to get loose. But his desperation made him single minded and blinded to Bucky’s evasion. Wrapping his metal arm around his throat, Bucky pulled tight, holding fast until his squirming quieted. Panting, Bucky gently laid Sam on the rooftop floor and moved towards the soldiers. He would not barter with them. 

The discussion on the street below had dissolved into a fight, and it made him realize that Miranda had been the one holding back. Every day in training she had pushed him harder and harder. Move faster. Be stronger. But the brawl below was breathtaking. The kind of fight that can only occur between two creatures of identical making. Each opponent matched in uncanny speed and unrelenting power. Miranda drove every bit of strength into every swing of her hands. And for every strike she landed, Olcora met them. 

Miranda raised her forearms up and together as Olcora beat hard against them. And he had known, knew in his soul, that if Miranda was truly human it would have shattered her bones. Olcora brought her leg up and struck hard against Miranda’s arms, hard enough to send her tumbling back. But Miranda tucked in, rolling to her feet.

Seizing the moment of distraction, Olcora screamed. “Jump!”

Bucky grabbed for the soldier nearest him as they moved to leap from the ledge. The fabric of his uniform slipped through his fingers, and then they were falling. Someone was screaming. Was he screaming? And then he realized there were others. A woman leapt from the building across the street, her hands clasped in the hands of her children who dutifully followed her.

“That’s enough!” Miranda’s voice was everything. It consumed the air. Echoed his mind. Vibrated through his bones. Even the wind stilled at her command.

Bucky looked out at the street, his breathing ragged, heart pounding in his ears. It was like someone had paused a movie. Dozens of figures hovered in the air, frozen in their plummet to the ground. 

“What the hell?”

Bucky looked back to see Sam, hand rubbing his throat, coming to stand beside him.

“No!” Olcora screamed. 

Miranda’s hands had flung outward and with them a great wave of power. Slowly now, she lowered them, and the dozens of bodies with them. Bucky couldn’t breath. Who was she? What was she?

“Stop this, now.” Miranda commanded as the mother and children settled on the sideway. The soldiers below him were still on the concrete, but seemingly unharmed. Bodies were scattered down the street. Had they all been lowered unscathed?

“I will not. Not until I have what I want.” Olcora snarled.

Miranda reached her hand far up above her head, fingers outstretched towards the sky. Her eyes had gone a bottomless color of black. It felt as though the world had shifted on its axis, its grip on reality slipping. He could feel it in the tensing of his muscles, the prickle over his skin. Something dark and ugly had reared its head. It cracked across the air, an electric snap that he felt down to the core of his being. 

“If she calls a hammer,” Sam rasped “I swear to god I’m done with all of this.”

Then she savagely wrenched her hand back down. At first nothing happened. There was nothing but the sound of his own hammering heart and she was simply crouched in the street. And then there was a thud. Then another. And another. Small dark forms plummeted to the earth. Dozens. Hundreds. 

“Birds.” Bucky whispered, horrified. 

They were splayed across the pavement, their bodies contorted. Some of their wings were twisted in unnatural directions. Olcora took one uncertain step back. Then two. Miranda slowly rose to her full height, and the small avian bodies rose with her. In one fluid, unearthly motion, every feathered head turned towards the woman. 

“What-what am I seeing?” Sam asked, his voice barely a whisper. 

Every beak fell open at once and screeched. A horrible sound that struck like a needle to their ear drums. Bucky and Sam staggered back, hands clamped hard over their ears. And then the birds were airborne, dark streaks of innumerable shapes and sizes flashing towards Olcora. 

She screamed, flinging her hands up to shield her face. She still held the minds of the people on the street, and they ran for her, flinging themselves over her, protecting her from slashing beaks and talons. The birds moved as one, a great flapping, seething cloud as they rolled and rushed around Olcora.

Another gun shot rang out and Miranda's body jerked. She cried out, clapping a hand over her shoulder, blood welling between her fingers. A child had gotten to one of the soldiers on the ground and claimed their gun. 

It was enough to pull Bucky from his shock. He rushed forward and propelled himself over the edge and off the rooftop. Landing lightly below, he pivoted, intent on disarming the brainwashed child. 

The young boy hovered a few feet off the ground, limbs outstretched from his body. Tears streamed down his blank face. Beside him the gun folded in on itself, metal screeching as it curled deeper and deeper. Breathless, Bucky turned back. Miranda’s gaze had shifted to them. Blood coated her outstretched fingers. And the blackness of those eyes...

This was not the girl he had awoken beside this morning. Not the girl who had given him a smile so small and tentative that it had nearly broken him. This was someone else. Someone dark and cruel. 

The space behind Miranda shifted. Sliding sideways and folding over in a way that grated against his skin. As though the very fabric of the universe was being torn apart and his mind was trying desperately to make sense of it. And through that tear stepped a woman. 

Her long blonde ponytail was loose, several strands of it torn out of its bindings and billowing around her face. A thin trickle of blood trailed from her lower lip and a bruise shadowed the skin around her right eye. A sword was clasped in her hand. 

“Enough sister.” The woman said quietly, reaching out to give the barest of touches to Miranda’s back. 

And then the world quieted again. The child behind him was lowered to the ground. The Writhing mass of birds pulled back and broadened their circle around Oclora then one by one fell to the ground. 

“Give this up, Olcora,” the blonde called out. “You would be a fool to think that you could take us both on alone.”

“Dearest Aristelle.” Olcora spat, pushing away the shield of bodies around her. They fell away easily, bloodied forms crumpling to the ground. “How high and mighty you must feel standing here before your servant and your prisoner. But if you haven’t noticed, I am no longer in my prison.”

Slowly, Bucky reached down, inch by inch, his fingers itching to make contact with the grip of his side arm. It was impossible to see any movement in those blackest of black eyes but he just knew Miranda watched him. He could feel the question in her gaze. When he pulled the trigger, would the gun be aimed at her?

“Our Watchmen made a mistake, and it cost us greatly. Don’t expect us to do it again.”

Miranda turned then, looking back at the blonde. Whatever she was talking about, Miranda didn’t know about it.

“I enjoyed seeing our father’s demon’s tear them apart. Alas, I could not stay to see them each destroyed. I had greater things on my agenda.” Olcora’s tone was acid.

Bucky’s hand closed around the grip of his gun and softly unsnaped the security strap. Shouts arose, and Bucky jerked, pulling the gun from its holster. Soldiers flooded the streets, guns raised, screaming at the trio of women. Bucky did not hesitate, he twisted towards the red head and fired. But a well of shadows gathered around her feet, laying claim to her body. Tendrils slipped over her skin until she dissolved into shadow. The bullet passed through her, parting the shape of her like smoke. And then there was nothing. 

Those still claimed by her mind control collapsed, hitting the pavement hard. 

When Bucky turned back, the soldiers were closing in. Miranda was slowly dropping to her knees, hands up in surrender. The blonde took one step towards Miranda, the air around them taking on the same, strange stretched appearance that it had when she had first materialized onto the scene.

“No.” Miranda’s voice was quiet, resigned. “Let them come.”

A soldier screamed at her to get down. But before Miranda could move any further, the soldier surged forward and shoved her down with a boot to her shoulder. Her injured shoulder. Miranda bared her teeth against the pain, and Bucky realized her eyes were their familiar shade of silver again. 

Sam touched down beside him. He was saying something, but Bucky could hear none of it. All he could see was Miranda on the ground, rifles aimed at her. All he could hear was the sound of those birds. Screeching an anthem that had carried only death in its call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Miranda's true identity will be revealed. I hope you guys are as excited for it as I am! :)


	22. Which One Are You?

"The damage is already done, Ara. Just sit down. Another few hours won't make anything worse for them." Miranda crossed her arms where she leaned back against the observation window of their holding cell.

"Ya know, I thought I'd be happy for you, finding friends and a lover and all, but not enthused about this "feeling like we owe them anything" shit you've got going on right now."

"Need I remind you that you are the reason we are in this position at all? Besides, these are good people. People that might actually be able to offer us some aid. Because if you haven't noticed, we aren't doing that hot on our own anymore."

"Oh, that was made plenty clear to me for that fact that we would have lost every one of our Watchmen if it had not been for that witch you've been holding captive and the sorcerer who appeared from nowhere."

Miranda pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes until she saw stars. "God, I forgot about her."

"You _forgot_?"

"Look. It's been a bit of a week alright. And the sorcerer. Was he the high and mighty type? Red cape? Sparkly powers."

Ara's narrow eyed glare confirmed her suspicions. "Friend of yours?"

"No. I wouldn't say that. But I get the feeling he knows exactly who we are."

Ara opened her mouth to counter with a biting remark, but a beep interrupted her as the lock at their door slid back. Director Mackenzie and Rhodey stepped into the room, the whir of Rhodey's mechanics the only sound. They both settled themselves opposite of Miranda, studying her, trying to gauge if she stood as a threat now that they had seen a glimpse of the real her.

"Look Miranda, we just want to understand what exactly happened." Mac said softly.

Of course he would try to see the best in her.

Ara scoffed, "Well I guess we could start with the fact that that is not her real name."

All eyes settled on Miranda. She fought the urge to turn her head. Even with the mirrored glass at her back, she knew Bucky would be standing there, watching her, listening.

"Oh?" Mac asked.

Miranda sighed, "It is not."

The room settled back into silence. Miranda squeezed her fingers around the swell of her biceps, and closed her eyes.

"My given name is Mortekaia. And that is my sister, Aristelle."

"Bucky told us he thought that the other woman on the street was your sister as well. Olcora? Was she using... _mind control_?" Rhodey's words became more and more skeptical as they left his lips. As though he himself could not believe what he was saying.

"Who are you really?" Mac asked, his tone sharp enough to cut. "Because it damn sure ain't an Agent of Shield."

"Aren't I though?" Miranda asked quietly, "Did I not go through training? Pass my tests? I was recruited to your team once too, Mac. You trusted me."

"Trusted. Past tense."

"If I'm going to tell you the truth, I want my team present to hear it. They deserve to know."

"I'm not sure they consider themselves your "team" anymore," Rhodey said.

Miranda swallowed, ignoring the pang in her chest at his words. "Maybe not. But that doesn't change the fact that I want them here."

Someone knocked on the glass against Miranda's back. Mac and Rhodey exchanged a glance before they stood and left the room, locking the door behind them.

"Are you sure this is wise, sister?" Aristelle asked, moving closer to her.

"We are running out of options, Ara." Miranda said quietly. "I trust these people. And you know I do not do so lightly."

Aristelle raised a brow and smirked suggestively at her.

"That's not why," Miranda snarled at her. "God. You are insufferable sometimes."

The door beeped again as Mac and Rhodey filed back into the room followed by Sam and Bucky. His carefully closed expression left her breathless, like someone had laid bricks over her lungs and leaned all of their weight into her. She stared at him with all the intensity that she could manage, trying desperately to will him to look at her. But he did not. He simply settled himself against the far corner, crossing his arms over his chest and staring pointedly into Mac's back.

"Alright. They are here. Now, tell us who you really are."

Miranda let out a long breath and pulled back the chair across from Mac and Rhodey. She dropped herself into it, resigning herself to this fate. "That question comes with a complicated answer."

"Who is your father?"

All eyes shifted to the speaker. Bucky. He was looking right at her now. And while part of her was relieved that he could still bear to even look at her, the other part recoiled at the vehement in his expression, feared that might never go away.

"Who my father is...is a difficult concept to contain within the human language." Miranda rubbed a hand over her breast bone, attempting to will the ache there to reside.

"Try it. We've seen some shit." Rhodey said. "We might get it."

Miranda exchanged a glance with Aristelle, before sighing. Leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees, she pinched the bridge of her nose. "He is...I don't know how to describe it. He is...god."

"We've dealt with gods before." Sam said.

She looked up, her hand falling down between her knees, and narrowed her eyes at him. "He is not ' _a god.'_ He is _the god."_

"Like "Jesus" Christ God? The almighty _merciful_ god?"

Miranda looked at Aristelle, frustration brewing. Aristelle shrugged a shoulder as if to say 'You started this.'

"So what you are telling me, is that after all of the debate, all of those wars and prosecution, the Catholics are actually right?" Mac said.

"There is so much scientific evidence backing the theory of the big bang!" Rhodey said. "Not to mention the infinity stones themselves."

Miranda leveled her silver gaze on Rhodey. "Who do you think lit the match that ignited the big bang?"

The room fell to silence and she pushed to her feet. "And no. The Catholics were not right. Not entirely. He never had a son. There were no prophets of my father's, no angels, no holy spirit. There was just us. My sisters and I."

"How old are you?" Bucky asked. The quiet calm of his voice cutting through the commotion in the room.

Miranda smirked at him, hoping desperately to pull even the slightest of smiles from him. "Don't you know you are never supposed to ask a woman her age."

He stared back at her, unamused. She took in a shaky breath.

"But that doesn't really explain who you are," Mac said, tapping his fingers on the table top.

"That is because while 'God' is a more adequate description of what our father can do," Aristelle said, cutting in, "There is another name that has been coined for him for centuries. Though it really described him more as an event than a person, per say." Aristelle looked to Miranda to finish.

"Apocalypse."

The room was quiet. One breath. Then two.

"You said you had three sisters," Bucky said quietly. She could see the pieces falling together in his mind. "So does that mean…"

Miranda swallowed, looking down at her hands. So many times he had been afraid of what she thought of him. Was consumed by thinking that she would see him as the monster. That she would be afraid of what he could do. And all along, she had been the monster. But she had warned him of this, told him so many times that she was no good.

"Four sisters," Rhodey echoed. "Four Horsemen."

Aristelle's smile was savage. "Finally, they catch on. Really, I just don't understand how you could not have suspected something. Especially since she's been shagging tall, dark and handsome over there."

It was like an out of body experience. Watching each face react to her sister's words one by one. Slowly, everyone looked to Bucky. He had frozen in place, his arms crossed over his chest with a thumb pressing against his lower lip in thought. He blinked. A blush seeped up from the collar of his shirt.

Miranda leaned back in her chair, leveling her sister with a look that could have melted the polar ice caps. "Sometimes, you really are just the absolute worst."

Aristelle lifted a shoulder in a mock shrug before responding sweetly. "I do what I can."

"I have suspected _something_ for a while now," Bucky said, his voice small. "But I've seen how things have gone for the Inhumans. Myself even. There are plenty of terrible things to encourage silence over something like that. And she never really gave us a reason not to trust her."

"Of course you would think that," Rhodey spat, "You are the one getting some on the side."

Rage, hot and overwhelming, surged to the surface, and then Miranda was on her feet, standing over him. "If you really knew anything about me, if you _knew_ what I could do... The fact that any of you are even alive should be enough to know you could trust us."

"She's the reason we are still here to discuss this," Aristelle said mildly, inspecting the dark crescents of dirt beneath her fingernails. "If it was my choice we would have been long gone the second you goons pointed a gun at me. She told me we could trust you. That you could help us."

"Which one are you?" Rhodey asked slowly, not wavering under the weight of her anger.

"You can't teleport out of here. We've dealt with an Inhuman like that before." Mac said. The authority in his voice had wavered, and he had shifted away from Miranda just slightly.

"Oh, we aren't Inhumans." Miranda could hear the grin in Aristelle's voice. "We are entirely unique from any other of his creations."

"Which one," Rhodey ground out again, "Are you?"

Miranda set her hands on the table and leaned in close, enjoying the way he fought not to push away from her. "If we really were to truly ride into this world on the backs of horses, my face would be last you'd see."

"Is that why you are here?" Sam asked. His voice small against the whirlwind raging through her mind. "To end humanity?"

"It's what we were sent here to do. Eons ago." Aristelle said, her voice distant. Miranda stepped back, straightening. "But...I couldn't do it. I fell in love with this planet, its people. They didn't deserve decimation at the hand of my father's anger. And I coerced Mor into helping me stop him."

"Coerced." Miranda's laugh was sharp. And she knew her words came from an ugly place, but she was angry. So angry. "One day, you just might call it what it was."

Hurt flashed across Aristelle's eyes, but she continued on. "We trapped my father in the void between dimensions. Somewhere that he could not free himself from. But I could not convince my other sisters as I had Mor. They have been desperate their whole lives to please him. To be loved by him. So we had to imprison them too, to save this planet and its people. To keep them from setting our father free."

"And they are free now?"

"Just Olcora, I think. But she will be intent on getting the Terra. It will take more than the power Olcora has to free our father."

"If she reaches this last sister, will she have enough power then?" Mac asked.

"Yes and no," Miranda said quietly, settling against the wall, as far from Bucky as she could manage. "She will still need me. She can tear down all the barriers she wants, but I'm the only one who can turn the key to open that door."

"But if you are the only one who can let him free, how did Olcora get loose?" Sam asked.

Aristelle drew in a long breath. "Trapping our father was an incredible feat. It left Mor with far less power to build the entrapments for our sisters. Black magic is not my strong suit. I did what I could but...it takes incredible power to wield an entrapment spell bound by blood. And we were not able to do it a second and third time. Not so soon after our father's banishment."

"Freeing our sisters is a similar process to summoning a demon. I wove a despicable spell, hoping that such a terrible price would deter others from using it." Miranda explained.

"Are you saying there are people who know about this? About your father and sisters? And the spells needed to free them?" Rhodey asked.

"So you don't believe in witches then?"

"This isn't Salem."

Miranda and Aristelle exchanged a glance. "That was a pretty ugly time. But they were playing around with things that they had no business with."

Bucky shifted where he stood against the wall. "Those women who have been turning up dead in the city. Did you murder them? Were they your...sacrifices?"

Taking a steadying breath, she looked up at him, meeting the blazing intensity of his gaze. "No. But it is my fault."

"If you haven't noticed, Olcora's main ability is mind control. She wields it like an infection. It can spread from one host to the next." Aristelle explained.

"Which makes cults an easy target. Their desperation to belong paired with their dabbling in black magic gets them too close to her. She can reach through her prison and influence them through sheer proximity." Miranda shivered, remembering the girl in the night club bathroom. How heavy the influence had been. "She shows them how to summon demons, gives them a taste of what true power is, and then shows them how to free her with the promise of that power. But the connection is not great. It takes them a while to get it right."

"And then we hunt them down and eliminate the issue before it's a problem." Aristelle finished.

"What happened this time? What changed?" Mac asked.

Miranda swallowed, wrapping her arms around herself. "I got distracted."

"This isn't your fault, Mor. We all failed. It's been so long. We just got...complacent."

The room settled into silence as the others turned over the information.

"This can still be fixed, though. Right?" Mac asked, pushing back his chair and standing. "You said it yourself. She needs Miran-er-Mortekaia," He spoke the name slowly, the word clumsy on his lips, "to set your father free. Until then, we can change the game."

"We need to keep her from Terra." Miranda said. "Terra is her tool. Her chances of succeeding become much greater with her in her arsenal."

"Okay," Rhodey said. "And how do we do that?"

Miranda looked over at Aristelle. She could see the other girl tense.

"We keep her from reaching the Convergence. If she gets that open, she has Terra."

"But we will keep you here, Mor." Aristelle said. "We keep you safe. That's the key here."

Miranda looked up at her, expression solemn. "She will keep killing people, Ara. Until she gets what she wants. One by one she will kill every human on this planet herself of she has to. Then what will all of this have been for? Everything you've done, the sacrifices you've made…It will have been for nothing."

Aristelle pressed her lips into a thin line. "You've never cared before about what I did to get us here…"

"I've done terrible things to keep our father from this planet. Unspeakable things." Miranda's eyes trailed to Bucky where he stood across the room, watching her silently. His expression was unreadable, eyes dark. He had told her once that he wanted to know her, to see her like she had been able to see him. _Feel better about yourself now?_ "I cannot stand idly by and let it be in vain."


	23. The End of the Line

"You kept this from me. All of this."

Miranda took in a long breath. her fingers closed into fists where they hung between her legs then opened. Closed then opened. The others had left, leaving only the two of them in the room. Even Aristelle had finally had the good sense to butt out. She looked up at him from where she sat, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly tired.

"I've always been up front."

"You didn't really elaborate on the fact that your sister is the devil."

Miranda's smile was sharp. "I've seen the devil. She ain't it."

"And you." The expression on his face was like a dagger to the heart and Miranda had to fight from recoiling at the pain of it. "Did you feel you could not tell me what you could do? Who you were?"

"I told you over and over I was no good. That the people who attached themselves to me get hurt. You chose not to listen. I thought after everything you have been through, what you have done, that you would understand."

He flinched at her words and she could have buried herself then and there. "That's just the thing. You know every horrible act I've committed. It's only fair that I get to see your demons."

"You've seen my demons, up close and personal." His eyes shuttered and she knew he was remembering that night in the warehouse. The creature that reached out and touched his mind. "If you knew what was good for you, you'd leave me, right here and now, and never look back."

He threw his hands up in frustration. "God! All I want is the truth, Miranda. Or do I call you 'Mortekaia?' It's only a name, and you kept that from me too. I just...I just want one truth. I went into this knowing that I knew nothing real about you, but I thought it was a trust thing. That you would open up to me. I thought we were at least that far."

"I despise my name and the words that have derived from it." Miranda leaned back, scrubbing her hands over her face. "And it's not a 'trust' thing. It's a 'fear' thing. I'm terrified, James."

"Of what? That horror show of a sister?"

A sad smile tilted her lips. She was tired of lying to him. Tired of lying to herself. "Of losing you."

He let out a breath, as though someone had punched him in the stomach. The surprise of her words like a physical blow moving him back one unsteady step.

"I thought...God, I don't know what I thought." Miranda leaned forward, her elbows driving hard into the tops of her knees as she pulled at her hair. "I thought maybe this could be different. That I could love something. That I was finally deserving of it. But I was wrong. I'm not sure it's something I'm meant for."

"Love…" The word was barely a whisper as it crossed his lips.

She looked up at him slowly, as if any sudden movement might spook him. His eyes were wide as they searched her face for a lie, but she was an open book, every word written in truth.

And then she was saying it, the words she had thought hundreds of times since she had met him but had never spoken aloud for fear that to say them would make them concrete and true. "You are everything I never thought I deserved. And still do not."

She looked down at her hands, unable to watch the war of emotions on his face. This would be the end of it. He knew what she was now. And he would walk away. But that was what she wanted wasn't it? Isn't that what she had told him to do countless times?

"Hey." His voice was incredibly soft, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him.

She squeezed her fingers until they hurt. His footfalls were almost perfectly silent as he moved across the room towards her. She swallowed, pressing her fingers into her eyes until she saw stars, pleading with the tears to hold on for a little bit longer.

"Hey…" There was a hand on her knee and then the cool touch of his metal fingers beneath her chin. His thumb grazed her lower lip as he turned her face to his.

He was on his knees before her. His expression soft and open as his eyes searched her face. Everything had shifted between them now. She could feel it. The ground was uncertain, threatening to crumble. But here, at the end of his finger tips, she felt safe despite all of it. She leaned into him, pressing her forehead against his.

"All I ask is no more secrets. I'm in this now, Em. For all of it." He pressed his lips against hers, slow and gentle. "Till the end of the line."


End file.
